Tatooinian Sunset
by Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu
Summary: Faced with an agonizing choice, the Jedi Kenobi decides to protect baby Leia and leave baby Luke to be raised by Tusken Raiders...The lives of the twins are thus forever changed.
1. Altering the Path of the Suns

**Title:** **Tatooinian Sunset  
****Author:**** Deja Vu  
****Summary:**** Faced with an agonizing choice, Obi-Wan decides to protect baby Leia and leave baby Luke to be raised by Tusken Raiders...The lives of the twins are thus forever changed.  
****Rating:**** No language, some violence and blood.  
****Disclaimer:**** I don't own Star Wars, but this story is mine. Some dialogue from the Star Wars movies is used—that dialogue is copyright Lucas.  
****Author's Thanks:**** Many thanks to Kitt and Claudie—you're both lifesavers! Also, many thanks to the reviewers for all feedback!  
****Author's Notes:**** Flashbacks are in **_**italics**_**, and when a long stretch of time passes in a chapter, you will find more than four asterisks marking it, so as to decrease confusion. Also, please note that Ghorfa, in this story, is another word for Tusken Raider.  
****Characters:**** Major characters include Luke, Leia, Vader, Obi-Wan, and Bail Organa. Mara Jade plays a small part in this fic and a bigger role in its sequel, **_**Galactic Sunrise**_**.**

****

The Tatooinian suns had set less than an hour ago, and the harsh desert wind sifted through the sand with invisible fingers, covering and uncovering dry, bleached bones of indeterminable ancestry.

A massive creature moved forward fluidly and silently on the sandy sea, heading in the starry night toward a small, quiet homestead.

Within the homestead, three occupants slept.

Outside the homestead, the beast let loose a low moan, and into the awaiting darkness a figure sprang.

****

Owen Lars was a dependable man.

He was never one to let his equipment falter for long, and he always did what he thought was best for himself and his household. No Tatooinian would have ever denied him the description of "responsible."

The head of the Lars household _knew_ the danger that Tuskens represented. He had known it all his life, and he had even experienced firsthand what the savage creatures could do. With this in mind, he had always kept the alarms and the security fence in top condition, knowing that they could one day mean the difference between life and death.

However, the power cells to the security system had been fried by the hot Tatooinian suns two days ago (and since it was one of the hottest Tatooinian days on record, it was no surprise), and, while he had intended to do so, he had not restored them quite yet. So much was on the busy moisture farmer's mind that he was hardly to be blamed. After all, had he been able to hire a little more help, he would have been able to spend more time making sure everything was operating smoothly.

The simple fact of the matter was: the alarms and the security fence were not activated.

****

_A lone Tusken Raider stared down at the stiff, cowled body that was cradled in her arms. Her elaborately jeweled mask gleamed in the light let off by the setting Tatooinian suns, providing a contrast to her dull, sandy robes. She had ventured momentarily away from the others of her tribe, unnoticed for the time being. Now was time for reflection._

_Her child was dead, yet another victim claimed by the merciless desert planet._

_The shifting sands seemed to mock her loss, hitting her robe like tiny pellets seeking a vulnerable target._

_Survival on Tatooine was rare. Every Ghorfa knew that._

_But it didn't change the feeling of emptiness in her heart._

_She held the lifeless body up to her chest, making soft grunting noises. Her first child..._

_Slowly, her head begin to lift, and in her mind's eye she saw the homestead she knew was not too far away._

_There was a child there. She had heard it._

_She and the others of her tribe had been discouraged from going near that particular homestead lately, however, for a strange wizard had recently appeared to protect it...But the wizard was gone. He had left in the middle of the night, though none of the Tuskens knew why. She could go to the homestead—she could become a mother once again._

****

Even quick moves could be made silently, and it was with increasing stealth that the cowled figure snuck into the Lars homestead, firmly clutching a gaffi stick and subconsciously touching a large brown pouch held at the waist. Gray-clothed feet padded quietly on the floor, and the form moved ever closer to the room from which soft breathing sounds could be heard. The figure listened for a moment, merely a wraith against the doorframe, and then made an entrance.

Two forms lay silently in bed while a baby in a nearby cradle gurgled quietly. Closer, the figure went, finally stopping beside the child. The form clenched a rag-covered fist.

It was a child of a species that was the main _enemy_ of the Ghorfa: humans...

But—nonetheless—a _child_...

Covered hands reached down gently to pick the baby up. Solemn blue eyes opened, blinking groggily.

The child was raised a little higher into the air, and, suddenly, pudgy hands reached up to play with the golden headdresslike face mask. The mysterious figure clutched the baby protectively with one arm. Free arm raised, the being brought up a ready gaderffii stick, ready to crash it onto the skulls of the two sleeping adults.

The sudden contortion of the child's face halted the robed being's action.

Trying to ignore the baby's strange expression, the creature nevertheless reasoned that killing the two adult humans would most likely result in harm to the child.

Reluctantly, the being left the room, pausing after hearing a feminine voice mumble: "Luke..."

After a brief moment of hesitation and then a rustle of robes, the figure, with the child, was gone.

****

After removing her dead child's robes from the pouch at her waist, the female Tusken Raider, Arr't'ni, quickly swathed the human baby in the unisex robe typical of Tusken children. Her own child's body had probably already been picked apart by Tatooine's vicious residents, but she no longer felt remorse.

After securing the eyemask on the confused baby, she placed the whimpering boy into the pack on her back. She stalked forward quickly. The others must never know that what she carried was a human child...And unless problems arose when he was assigned a mate, they never would.

****

Beru had never heard Owen utter so many profanities in her life.

Frankly, she was a little surprised...Not about his strong language—which he was known to use occasionally—but about the fact that he actually cared so much about Luke's disappearance. The desert had hardened Owen quickly, and the sweet emotions he had shown while they were courting had become rare indeed. Now, he always seemed to be angry.

Then again, perhaps she shouldn't be quite so surprised that he cared about Luke's disappearance. After all, Owen had been entrusted with a job by Obi-Wan and had failed—though she did know that Owen was a lot more passionate about the child than he let on. She could still remember how tenderly he had touched the baby when he was brought to them. It had been love that she had seen in his eyes, though he wasn't one to express it often.

Thinking about the boy's arrival made her feel heartbroken. But not for Owen—nor for Obi-Wan—but for herself and Luke.

It seemed like just yesterday when Luke had first entered into her life. He had been the one bright spot in a world dimmed by uncertainties.

And now he was gone. Taken away from her like so many other things on this accursed desert planet.

Somehow, she found the courage and strength to raggedly inquire, "You don't think it was Anakin?"

Owen Lars spun toward his wife in rage, quivering, his face red. "You will not speak that _name_ in this house!"

Beru's gaze immediately fell to the ground, and she couldn't help but tremble.

Owen softened, moving closer to her and pulling her into an embrace. Her tears finally began to fall as she rested her head against his chest. Squeezing his eyes shut in frustration, he muttered, "I'm so sorry, Beru. I just...I think it was the Sand People...Why we weren't killed...The alarms...I forgot about the alarms...It's my fault..."

"No, no," the pained woman muttered, "you're busy, always so busy..."

"And Kenobi...That Jedi...He'll—"

"Shhh," Beru managed through her tears. "Don't say a word..."

****

"Master Yoda," Obi-Wan sighed, rigidly standing on the damp Dagobah ground in front of Yoda's small hut, "what must I do?"

He was agitated and doubted that any easy answers would be forthcoming. The plan for Anakin's children had gone so very, very wrong. Obi-Wan had recently left Tatooine while praying to the Force that Owen and Beru Lars would be able to keep the baby in their possession safe for a few days. He had had no choice but to leave—there had been an assassination attempt on the other child's life. How Bail and Breha Organa had managed to save their adopted baby, he didn't know; he could only assume that the Force had played a hand in the ordeal. But the would-be assassin had escaped, and Obi-Wan had been snared into detective duty. But things on Tatooine had gone horribly wrong, and he was so very agitated.

"Too late for him, it is. Choose, you did, between the girl and the boy. In the Force's hands now is the boy." The wizened Jedi Master said the last softly. He prodded the ground with his gimer stick, as if seeking answers. But if he received any, he said nothing.

Obi-Wan clenched his fists. He couldn't help but see the child's wide blue eyes staring at him in his mind's eye. They were intelligent eyes, full of emotion and understanding. He could still remember holding the child—so quiet for a baby—in his arms and looking down at his sparkling sapphire eyes, smiling as chubby fingers reached up to touch his beard and gently pull at the individual hairs. The child had been so amused by his beard, always giggling and happy, his blue eyes dancing to music only heard by him...Even if this recent development had been shaped by the Force, could Obi-Wan just abandon the child?

Obi-Wan remembered the signs surrounding Anakin, signs which had made Yoda hesitant to advocate his training...Was this a sign that Anakin's child would follow in his footsteps?

Finally, the Jedi ventured, "Couldn't I just retrieve him from the Sand People?"

After a long pause in which he averted his gaze to the ground, Yoda finally met Obi-Wan's eyes and answered, "Require manipulation of minds or brute force such would, both coming from the Dark Side. A noble quest it would be, but doing it without compromising your values, you cannot."

Obi-Wan couldn't help but think of Anakin's slaughter of Tusken Raiders. Was Yoda afraid that Obi-Wan would be driven to that?

The ghost of Qui-Gon, who had been standing by silently, finally spoke. "After Anakin's fall, you have been too close to the Dark Side to pull off something like this without compromising yourself."

"But what of stealth?" Obi-Wan tried, his voice almost a plea.

Yoda shook his head. "The way of Darkness is stealth. At every corner, Treachery looms. Separating the two children was our desire; done so we have. Separated, they are, on two different worlds, in two different lives. To seek the boy is to forsake the girl. Two options has the Force provided you with, not three." The small alien paused. "Much unrest on Alderaan, do I sense. To the girl to provide protection, you may go—or open to harm, you may leave her...You must let the Force guide you. What does it tell you?"

Obi-Wan stared at the elderly green Jedi Master. Yoda's sad eyes contained much wisdom, but he could also see expressed within them a willingness to let others choose their own paths...Yoda would let Obi-Wan choose his own path; he would not force him into a decision.

He moved his head to look at Qui-Gon; his former master was also willing to let him make his own choices, his own mistakes...

How Obi-Wan wished that Yoda would leave his self-imposed exile! But he knew that the alien was old and preparing himself for one last great effort should the children of Padmé prove unable to retrieve Anakin or destroy Vader.

No...The choice, the guardianship of one child, was Obi-Wan's decision to make.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath; he knew what he had to do.

****

_The brown-haired baby stared at the dangling objects above. Stubby fingers reached up and touched the stars and planets, sending them spinning. The child giggled._

_A shadow fell against the wall. Noises began drifting toward the cradle from the window._

****

_The old nurse smiled as she came upon the nursery doorway. Surely it would not take too long to check in on Princess Leia. Ah, she was such a sweet child._

****

_The door slowly began to slide sideways. It stopped just wide enough for a kindly eye to peek through. But the eye widened at the sight of a stranger in the nursery._

"_Stop!"_

_Cursing, the figure's movements briefly ceased before he gathered his tools and retreated back out the window._

_Rushing over to the window, the nurse watched the form depart as she pulled out her comlink. "S-Security!"_

_The little girl in the cradle stared at the strange purple droplet of fluid left behind by the fleeing figure. She started to reach her chubby fingers toward it, but she was scooped up by the nurse before she could touch it._

****

_The nervous aide entered the meeting room, standing at attention at the door._

"_What is it?" Bail Organa inquired, giving an apologetic look toward the others at the table. It was bad enough that the night meeting had lasted so long._

_Glancing at the other occupants of the room, the aide went to Bail Organa's side, whispering, "There has been an assassination attempt on Princess Leia's life."_

****

"_Obi-Wan! Call Obi-Wan!" Bail shouted, so agitated that he was trembling. He had immediately left the meeting room and was currently standing beside his head of Security. He dared not tell his wife yet...Oh, Breha was going to be so upset..._

"_But, sir," his head of Security—one of the few people who knew details concerning how the precious baby had ended up in his hands—interjected quietly, "it was not long ago you received the child. Obi-Wan might not think such a situation is suited for the baby and take her a—"_

"_Call Obi-Wan," the man growled, leaving no further room for argument._

****

"Obi-Wan!" Bail Organa held his hands out in greeting. "Will you stay longer this time?" His voice got quieter: "You may have already taken care of the assassin, but others may come, and I don't know what Breha and I would do if—"

"I understand," Obi-Wan said quietly. He could not meet the other's eyes.

Hesitantly, the Alderaanian ventured, "And what of the boy?"

"I don't know, Bail...I don't know..." The Jedi looked troubled.

****

_Obi-Wan held the assassin up against the wall by his throat. He had been difficult to find with the nurse's sparse description, but Obi-Wan, with a judicious use of the Force, had done it._

"_You tried to kill a _child_. An innocent _girl_!" the Jedi hissed. He could feel the rage swelling up within him. It was his _job _to ensure that the twins remained alive. He owed Padmé that much, after he had failed her husband...He tried to wipe such thoughts from his mind, but it was harder than it should have been for a Jedi._

"_And it would've worked, too, if that blasted nurse hadn't—"_

"_Quiet! Who sent you?" Obi-Wan demanded. He could not help but think back to Padmé's own failed assassin, a shapeshifter. But it was not Padmé in danger this time; it was her daughter._

"_You'll never get it out of me," the furred creature gritted, sharp white teeth glistening in defiance._

"_That purple chemical. We can trace it—"_

"_Hah!" the alien spat. "Not in a hundred centuries. You'll never trace it unless you happen to have a bunch of outlaw friends running around." The creature smirked. "If you're gonna kill me, do it now, 'cause this interrogation is gettin' boring fast."_

_Obi-Wan glared at him._

****

**Author's Notes:** **I've done a lot of research for this fic, but I haven't found enough detail, and some things I've found are contradictory, so I've made up a few things and guessed at others. Some sources: the official Star Wars page, Wikipedia, Wookieepedia, the ****Galactic Phrase Book and Travel Guide****, ****A Guide to the Star Wars Universe****, the ****Star Wars Encyclopedia****, and a visual and informational source Kitt showed me. My online sources have been updated since this fic was first posted, so not all of this fic is in accordance with what I've listed.**

**My original focus was going to be on Luke, yet Leia seemed to call for my attention. I try to address the twins equally, but sometimes I focus on Luke more.**

**I started this fic in at least August of 2003 (I have an email from Kitt about it dating that far back). I put it on hiatus for a while before finally returning to it. Basically: it's been a while in the making.**


	2. The Bond of the Suns

A small child garbed in the rugged attire of the Sand People stared contemplatively at several romping bantha cubs. Sand billowed up all around them and shimmered in the twin suns, adding to the almost magical nature of the cubs' play. This small child was the most introverted of all of the Ghorfa children, or uli-ah, and such brooding was not unusual.

Female banthas gave birth to cubs about every two years, and it was a tradition of the Sand People for the young Tusken Raider children to tend to bantha cubs. Once the cubs had grown into adult banthas, they would be "received" by Tuskens who had just come of age. Not all of those adult banthas would form bonds with Tusken Raiders their first opportunity, however, and those "bondless" banthas were eventually released to fend for themselves in the desert if a bond was not formed after a few years. Some would join wild herds of roaming banthas; others would die. It was both the way of the Ghorfa and of the cruel desert planet.

The older Sand People were watching this first encounter from a distance, standing beside their bantha mounts. Several uli-ah had already begun to play with the cubs, and the interaction was of interest to the adult Tuskens.

Finally, after glancing up at the twin suns, which were like giant eyes in the sky keeping watch, the introverted child stepped forward into the midst of the bantha cubs, sitting down decisively. Some of the cubs came forward, nudging him demandingly and eagerly with soft brown noses. He gently touched a few of them, exuding a strangely calming aura. Still, he gazed over the heads of the bantha cubs near him, searching for something...

He shot to his feet when he saw the smallest of all the bantha cubs tramping decisively towards him and leaving scuff marks in its wake. It pushed its velvety nose into his chest, snuffling loudly as it investigated his scents. The child scratched a tender spot on the bantha's head, and then he flattened himself on the ground, which surprised those who were watching him. The cub jumped on top of the introverted uli-ah, and the two were soon rolling around in the sand, although both remained silent in their play. Not even a hint of laughter came from the child, and the furred beast also strangely refrained from releasing even a grunt.

****

A female Tusken Raider watched the scene unfold with something akin to disappointment. The child had always possessed a penchant for weaklings. Whenever a raiding party went out to steal precious food and water from a homestead, the child's bandaged head would always fixate on hers, almost pleadingly. For some reason, he was unable to accept that the Ghorfa _had_ to take advantage of other species' helplessness in order to ensure the continued survival of their own species...

He was smaller than the other Tusken children, the female Tusken conceded, so perhaps a small mount was best for him to eventually ride on in the rocky Jundland Wastes. It would be years before he received his bantha mount, but she could tell already that this particular bantha was the one he was going to form his bond with.

Perhaps even more alarming than the young one's affinity for weaklings was his eternal silence. While learning the basics of fighting with gaffi sticks, not even a grunt ever came from beneath his mask. While the other children talked quietly about the size of the womp rats they would one day kill, he would stare longingly into the sunset. And now, while the rare sound of laughter came from the mouths of Ghorfa children playing with bantha cubs, he still stayed silent.

The other Sand People had not voiced their concerns to _her_, but she knew they did not think the child would last long. Many were even secretly glad that he would probably never even have the chance to become the storyteller, which was a coveted position by many adults for themselves and their children, as the storyteller was one of the most respected members of the Tusken community.

The Ghorfa had no written language; instead, they relied on complex chants to keep track of their lineage, their legends, and their ancestor's memories of the space battles that had laid waste to much of Tatooine. These chants were handed down from generation to generation, the storyteller eventually taking on an apprentice, who was never allowed to recite the stories out loud, for to speak a single word of the sacred stories incorrectly was considered grounds for instant death. When the apprentice decided he was ready to become the master, he would recite the stories, and the old storyteller would wander off into the desert to die. While the storyteller was greatly honored in life, from Arr't'ni's perspective there was little honor in such a fate as dying alone in the merciless desert rather than in the heat of battle. Such was why Arr't'ni, in a way, was glad that the child would never be able to become the storyteller. She wished such a lonely fate on no Tusken.

Of course, unless he proved his strength by some incredible feat, the child would never be the leader of their Tusken clan or tribe either, though the situation _could_ change...

Arr't'ni stared at the uli-ah, who was now sitting calmly beside the bantha cub he had befriended and stroking the creature's long dark hair. He paused every now and then to gently scratch the area on the animal's head where spiral horns would one day grow in, a sensitive spot for all bantha cubs. She sighed, leaning down to gently tap the head of the massif guard animal standing beside her. The child's destiny seemed to be devoid of any chance at greatness. Perhaps she should have never taken the young human from the moisture farmers' homestead that day years ago—but she had, and she did not truly regret it.

Yes, she confirmed to herself once again while gazing at her son, taking care of a bantha might be beneficial for Chinnatah's development.

****

Bail Organa stared upward at a painting of a woman with dark hair and kind brown eyes. Beneath the picture was a plaque that read simply: **Queen Breha Antilles Organa**.

How Bail missed his wife.

She had been his pillar of strength, the love of his life...And he had been the same for her.

They had tried several times to have children, but the result had always been a miscarriage, and they had been unable to have the little girl they had always wanted. When Padmé had died and Leia Skywalker had been offered forth, it had been a dream come true, though it was of course bittersweet, as the entry of this new life into their lives had involved the exit of a fellow senator.

Months after Bail and Breha had adopted Leia, Bail's senatorial aide Sheltay Retrac had died with his wife in an accident, and Bail and Breha had adopted the two-year old Winter Retrac, a strange but sweet child with white hair, green eyes, and a perfect memory. Young Winter still missed her parents dearly, and Bail and Breha had decided to let her keep her last name; after all, Winter did not need protection like Leia did.

But now, dear Breha was gone, the victim of a swift, fatal disease that Bail had never seen coming...

Feeling as if he were surrounded by death, Bail Organa sadly turned his eyes to another painting nearby. A man with brown hair and blue eyes stared out at him: his father-in-law, Bail Antilles.

After Bail Antilles had failed to receive the chancellorship, he had given up his long-held position of senator, allowing Bail Organa to become senator in his place. Bail Organa had been glad to finally be a part of the Republic leadership, but as Palpatine began seizing power, his father-in-law had soured the position for him. Bail Antilles had criticized Palpatine's regime profusely and encouraged his son-in-law to remove Alderaan from the Republic, but Bail Organa had refused. Simply withdrawing Alderaan from the Republic would not help matters, Bail Organa had believed, and when the Republic had been converted to an Empire with the approval of countless citizens and many senators, Bail Organa had felt sickened. Bail Antilles had become bedridden, and when his daughter Breha had died, the strain had proved more than he could handle, and he had followed her descent into death.

As if all that didn't make Bail sick enough at heart, he also had to deal with the fact that he had actually agreed with Chancellor Palpatine's views on bureaucratic stagnation and voted for Palpatine to be allowed emergency powers. At the time, his reasons for doing so had seemed sound—the Separatists had refused to negotiate, and quick action was needed. He had known the Senate wouldn't have approved of using the Clone Army, so the logical option seemed to be to give more power to Palpatine...

But upon realizing the problem of Palpatine's growing power, Bail had immediately cultivated relationships with other like-minded senators, such as Padmé Skywalker of Naboo (how he wished she hadn't met such a wretched death!), Mon Mothma of Chandrila (a kind but assertive woman who had been inspired by Bail Antilles's last words against Palpatine), and Garm Bel Iblis of Corellia (a charismatic man who had never tried to hide his disdain for Palpatine's regime).

But whereas Palpatine seemed to find an ally in Bail, he appeared to be rather wary of Bel Iblis and Mothma, which Bail thought was unfortunate, if inevitable.

Bel Iblis had been rather outspoken in opposing Palpatine's expanding powers, and he had advocated the middle ground: keeping a central government that was strong enough to be useful while still ensuring the rights of member worlds of the Republic were maintained. Mothma had also spoken out against Palpatine, seeming to fear a dictatorship. For months after the Empire was instated, she had encouraged Bail to speak out as well; however, the subjugation of Kashyyyk silenced her encouragement, though she had continued speaking out. Bail had preferred to try to stay close to Palpatine in an attempt to balance his power and protect the lives of his family. Mothma and Bel Iblis seemed to have no restraints in that regard.

Bail Organa gave a heavy sigh before reluctantly trying to clear his mind. Such heavy thoughts were for Coruscant; on Alderaan, he should simply be satisfied with his success in his planetary ban of weapons and with the presence of his two adopted daughters. While Winter was presently studying with a tutor, as she often was, Leia was being watched by Obi-Wan. She would be delighted that her father had arrived home early.

He walked through the hall, eventually opening a door and standing quietly in the door frame.

He smiled as he watched Obi-Wan Kenobi color in a picture of a Jedi Knight on an electronic coloring book alongside a fascinated Leia. She was such a precious little girl with her chubby cheeks and pigtails; unlike the strangely regal Winter, little Leia seemed to encourage attention. Everyone was always doting on her, whether it was Obi-Wan, one of Bail's three gossipy sisters (Tia, Rouge, and Celly, bless their souls), her old nanny, or Bail himself. Bail was very glad that he was fortunate enough to raise Leia as a princess in the Royal House of Alderaan. The Royal House, located in the capital city of Aldera, provided a very peaceful and serene environment that was ideal for raising children.

Yes, Bail would give the little girl the best he could give, cherishing his memories of her deceased biological mother and adopted mother privately. They would want him and Leia to be happy.

Three-year old Leia, oblivious to the inner musings of her foster father, shook her head as she stared at the picture Obi-Wan was coloring. "Not green! Blue!"

Obi-Wan shook his head, grinning gently. "Why must I always color the lightsaber blue?"

"Because that's the color of _your_ lightsaber, Obi-Wan," Bail said matter-of-factly from the doorway. "I should think you would have realized that by now."

"Bail!" Obi-Wan stood, smiling and swinging a giggling Leia up as he moved towards the man he was speaking to. He held the little girl out for her foster father.

"How was babysitting duty?" the elegantly robed man inquired, swinging around the excited princess. "I hope she wasn't _too_ much trouble!" He put on a mock-stern look.

"Daddy!" the girl exclaimed, sticking out her tongue and wriggling in his arms.

"Well, there was a moment there when I thought I might have to hang her out the window by her toes—" Obi-Wan smiled teasingly. He would no more do that to Leia than himself.

"Obi!" Leia turned towards him, frowning. She had her hands placed on her hips, looking perturbed as only little girls could. Bail, however, suspected she was imitating one of her aunts.

"Just kidding, young one," the Jedi said gently.

"Well, your father's off for the rest of the day, Leia," Bail smiled. "So how would you like to go to the zoo?"

"Zoo!" the small child squirmed eagerly. Her eyes had widened and seemed to be dancing around in their sockets. There were few places she enjoyed as much as the zoo. Then her eyes abruptly puckered up. "No aunties?"

"No," Bail reassured her. "And though I'm sure Winter would love to come, she's busy all day with her tutors." He turned to the brown-robed Jedi. "Would you like to come along in Winter's place?"

Kenobi hesitated, "Well, I—"

"Come, now, Obi-Wan. Surely a trip to the zoo will lift even _your_ somber mood." Bail raised an inquisitive eyebrow, the hint of a plea shining in his eyes.

Though Bail did not mention it, Obi-Wan knew that the older man's intentions were not just to "lift" Obi-Wan's "somber mood." A few days ago, yet another assassination attempt (there seemed to be nearly as many of them as the kidnapping attempts—the latter Obi-Wan understood, for Bail was not exactly a poor man, but the former had him slightly puzzled—what would someone gain from the princess' death?—his best guess was that it was another Royal House trying to eliminate Bail's heir) had been made on Leia's life while Bail Organa had been off-planet discussing forming a Resistance against the Empire. Bail was presently teetering on the edge of frustration and fear, as he always seemed to be for weeks after such attempts. He could handle his own life being in danger, but when that of his pride and joy was threatened, he seemed to fall apart. If Obi-Wan Kenobi accompanied him to the zoo, it would be as much for Bail's sake as for Leia's.

Knowing that, the Jedi Master sighed. There was no such thing as a break for a Jedi. "Well, all right."

****

There were several zoos on Alderaan, many of which Bail and Obi-Wan had already taken young Leia to, but the girl squealed when she saw which particular zoo the trio was to visit: Aldera's largest petting zoo.

She nearly ran inside without her two guardians, but Bail caught her by the hand, admonishing her gently. "Not yet."

The pittins were the first creatures in eyesight, and when the trio of humans finally entered the zoo, Leia rushed over to the creatures, petting their different-colored fur with chubby fingers.

Their soft noses brushed up against her cheek, but she paused mid-giggle when she saw the new animals that had been brought in days before.

She came to her feet, pittins forgotten, walking slowly over to a different area of the room and receiving puzzled looks from both Bail and Obi-Wan. Usually, Leia stayed with the pittins for quite some time, and they practically had to drag her to the next set of animals.

The little girl could not read the Aurebesh sign in front of these new creatures, but it said:

_**Species:**_ _Bantha  
__**Homeplanet:**__ Tatooine  
__**Information:**__ Banthas are hardy creatures that can survive for weeks without food and water, a survival technique that is very important since the hairy quadrupeds often live on desert planets. They grow two spiral horns that can reach incredible lengths, and when they are fully grown, their coarse fur provides them protection from both the desert sun and any adversaries. Banthas are often known as having been domesticated by fearsome desert savages known as Tusken Raiders, natives of Tatooine who use the creatures as both partners and beasts of burden._

Leia slid to her knees in front of the bantha cubs, lightly touching their still-soft fur. Then her soft brown eyes met with a pair of kind crystalline ones, and a strange feeling shot through her body. She brought her head up with a jolt.

****

Chinnatah jerked his head upwards from where he had been looking into his bantha friend's eyes. The cub gazed inquisitively at him but made no noise. Chinnatah patted the creature's head and then stood up and began walking aimlessly.

His name was Tusken for "sun," or "light-bringer," and he had always felt a sort of kinship with Tatooine's two suns, even disregarding his namesake. He was always looking to the horizon, as if somehow the suns would one day answer all of his questions.

But they never had.

He always felt like an outsider, dwarfed by the simple cloak and unisex cowl that sheltered his body from the sweltering Tatooine suns. Something other than the harsh Ghorfa lifestyle seemed to call to him, but he didn't know what or why. He was just a young Tusken child, lost in the fury of an emotional storm that raged at him every time he saw an unprovoked Tusken raiding party go after a helpless homestead. Perhaps those in the homestead were not utterly helpless, and many had even managed to strike back at some of the Sand People, but it seemed that the end was always the same for the Tatooinian colonists: death and defeat. Even the Jawas, also native to Tatooine, were not spared from Ghorfa attacks. The Sand People showed allegiance only to each other, never to any other creatures, something that Chinnatah, with his entire being, felt was _wrong_.

He clinched a rag-covered fist. His mother, Arr't'ni, did not seem to understand his eternal silence.

And he did not seem to understand her. But now, at last, he had someone whose silence would provide as much comfort as Arr't'ni could if she would just accept Chinnatah's weaknesses. To himself—for he understood well the guttural Ghorfa language even if he never ventured to speak it—Chinnatah, shunting the custom which forbade Tuskens to name banthas, gave the bantha cub the name "Vrentlla," which was Tusken for "acceptance."

Vrentlla gently bumped a fur-covered head against Chinnatah's knee, holding true to her namesake.


	3. Training of the Suns

Finally, a comprehensive pamphlet had been written to counter Imperial propaganda and provide information on Imperial atrocities_._ The pamphlet was called _A Call to Reason_, and its existence filled Bail with both terror and excitement...But he knew it was a natural step after the Declaration of Rebellion had been created. Finally, the Alliance to Restore the Republic was beginning to gain momentum.

Bail just hoped that Palpatine would not discover his involvement. If Leia and Winter were murdered by the Empire as Bel Iblis' wife and children had been, Bail didn't know what he would do. He lived for his daughters—the thought of them affected everything that he did. If they were to die because of him, it would break his heart...

He moved past his twelve-year old daughter's room, pausing as he heard a strange noise inside it. Leia was supposed to be napping, wasn't she? Concerned, he pressed his ear against the door to listen.

****

Leia blinked repeatedly. Her vision seemed hazy, and for some reason she couldn't move her legs. Since she couldn't do anything else, she simply looked around.

She appeared to be in a canyon, and desert sands were beginning to swirl all around her. Was she in the midst of a sandstorm?

She craned her neck upward, gazing at a nearby rock overhang. Frowning, she focused on something strange on the cliff—what was that?

After concentrating for a few moments, she realized that she was staring at a humanlike creature.

The being's tan coverings blended in well with the rocks, and the humanoid would have been easy to miss. She thought it looked a little small; perhaps it was an adolescent from a species that was smaller than humans? It seemed as if it were feeling wary of _something_, but it appeared unable to see Leia.

Leia turned, blinking in surprise as she saw a human teenager around her age stumbling toward the cliff. His black hair was mussed by the winds, and sand was swirling up and biting at his face. The teenager coughed, trying to cover his face with his sleeve so he could breathe better, but the winds were gaining in intensity, and Leia suspected he wouldn't last much longer.

The cloth-covered being seemed to reach a decision, climbing down the cliff and touching the teenager's shoulder. Upon seeing the creature, the teenager gasped and began backing up. The humanoid made a sweeping gesture at the rock overhang, walking forward a bit and gesturing some more. Caught between a raging sandstorm and a dangerous stranger, the adolescent seemed to decide he preferred the latter, and he began following the humanoid.

Leia was finally able to move her feet, and so she went after the pair, remaining strangely unaffected by the swirling sands. The humanoid brought the teenager to a small cave hidden among canyon rocks. Inside, they were protected from the sands, though the wind's hollow howl made the dark cave seem very foreboding.

The boy finally spoke. "I don't know why you're helping me, but thank you."

The creature's response was a hand gesture.

The adolescent still seemed a little nervous, however, and he continued talking, though it seemed as if he were mostly speaking to reassure himself. Leia doubted the humanoid could understand him; otherwise, the creature would probably have spoken sooner.

"I'm Biggs Darklighter," the human introduced himself. "I was exploring, and—well—I guess the sandstorm came faster than I thought it was going to...Beru's probably worried sick, and Owen's probably ready to skin me alive..."

The humanoid was staring at Biggs as he talked. He seemed to be interested, though Leia was unsure why.

As if somehow encouraged, Biggs continued, though he was looking down at his hands while he spoke. "They're nice people, really...I just sometimes wonder what it would be like if my parents hadn't died when I was little..." The youth finally looked up, staring at his strange savior with a confused look on his face. "They were killed by your kind, you know. I don't understand why you're saving me...You probably don't even understand me...But—thank you. I guess there's always some good among the bad, huh?"

The humanoid seemed to hesitate before reaching out to grab a gourd of some kind that was hidden beneath some rocks. The being offered it to Biggs, who accepted it while blinking in surprise.

"But water's so precious—why are you giving me this?"

But the creature simply stared at him. Something seemed to tell Leia that he was sad, but she was unsure why. She tried to ask the humanoid why he was sad, but her mouth felt too thick to talk. Her attempts to speak louder were also in vain, so she finally ceased her efforts.

The human boy continued to talk. "I want to be out among the stars, but they don't want me to, you know. Owen just lost an arm to your kind, and they really need me on the farm...But I think that one day I'm going to leave anyway...I'm not meant to stay here."

Leia attempted once more to speak, but she found herself being pulled away by some strange force...She struggled against it, but the force was too strong for her to resist. She wanted to scream—she wasn't ready to leave. But silence surrounded her, suffocating her—

She shot up in her bed.

A dream. Just a dream.

She took in a few deep breaths before she noticed her father standing beside her. "Are you all right, Leia?" he queried, sounding concerned.

Leia paused for half a second before nodding. "I had a strange dream...I was in a desert, and there was a boy and this other creature..."

Bail seemed surprised for a moment, but he was quick to hide it. "I'm sure it was nothing, dear." He smiled at her. "I have some documents to look over. If you need me, I'll be in the living room."

Leia nodded and watched as her father disappeared. He was right. It _was_ just a dream, wasn't it?

****

After Chinnatah had lived through six bantha birthing seasons, his gaffi stick training was finally to begin in full. He already knew the basics, but now he was to meet the real challenge. He would be wielding his gader stick, a staff given to uli-ah for training and primitive defense. The gader stick was a simplified and slightly shorter version of the gaderffii, possessing either a spear or a hook on one end—Chinnatah's possessed the former.

His Ghorfa teacher, Hinalg, roared out instructions in the harsh Tusken language, holding his double-edged staff threateningly in the air. Uli-ah were not coddled; when they trained, their instructor always carried his gaderffii rather than a gader stick. For an adult Tusken, it was unthinkable to stoop to using a gader stick, and it was not uncommon for uli-ah to be injured by gaderffii during training.

Chinnatah exchanged a glance with the other practicing student, Mrekln, practically feeling the sneer beneath the other's tattered face coverings.

And then Hinalg attacked.

The two uli-ah were hard-pressed to keep up with the adult Ghorfa's vicious slashes and feints. They parried and attempted to make attacks of their own, but Hinalg was merciless with his pupils, knowing they had to learn the hard way or die.

Mrekln snarled as Hinalg's gaderffii stick nicked his arm, and he fiercely tried to start in on the offensive. But Hinalg was ready for him, easily meeting his and Chinnatah's attacks. Hinalg kicked Mrekln in the stomach, turning on Chinnatah, who ducked under the gaffi swing Hinalg threw at him and swiped with his leg at Hinalg's feet. Hinalg jumped backwards, narrowly missing a swing from the gader stick Mrekln brandished.

Chinnatah and Mrekln looked at each other and then, simultaneously, leaped at Hinalg and brought him to the ground, pointing their gader sticks at the downed instructor's throat.

Hinalg growled, [You uli-ah still need practice; with it, the two of you could become great.]

Mrekln scoffed, [Chinnatah will only be deemed great when put next to a womp rat.]

Chinnatah stared at him, not offering a reply. Mrekln stalked off clutching his gader stick, angry that the other Tusken uli-ah never responded to any of his goading.

Chinnatah switched his gaze to his own gader stick, lightly twisting it in his wrist. He felt like he should be holding a different kind of weapon, one much more elegant...

****

Leia Organa lightly rotated her training saber. At Bail's request, Obi-Wan had agreed to instruct her on how to use a lightsaber. He had protested at first, but Bail had argued that self-defense training would not be enough should Leia come into contact with a highly skilled assassin. Although Bail had mentioned no names, Kenobi had known fully well that while assassins were _nearly_ the greatest of what he privately dubbed Bail's "Fears For Leia's Well-Being," it was the ever-looming threat of the youth's coming into contact with a Sith Lord that had Organa worried. And so Obi-Wan had finally conceded.

The Jedi began his lesson, slipping more easily into teacher mode than he had thought he would after so many years. "First, I'm going to teach you the basics. You cannot simply jump into a lightsaber battle. You must learn to trust your instincts. Only then can you truly begin to understand the complexity of this elegant Jedi weapon."

Biting her lip, Leia nodded, trying to concentrate.

She suddenly frowned. It felt as if a wisp of a spirit had momentarily entered her mind and then fled as quickly as it had come.

********************

Half of a birthing season (or one Standard Galactic Year) had passed by, and Chinnatah was finally to learn about projectile rifles. In some ways, he was dreading it, for Tuskens would usually just use the rifles to shoot at passing vehicles and at podracers in the Boonta Eve Races. Each kill and hit was noted with pride—for Tuskens, it was both a sport and a way to show good marksmanship. Violence was prevalent in Tusken society, for violence on Tatooine seemed necessary for survival. A reminder of this necessity was always thrown at him, but still Chinnatah could not help but feel there had to be another way...

Listening to his teacher's directions, Chinnatah shifted the weight of the Tusken Cycler rifle he was holding. It wasn't exactly _light_...

The first objects the uli-ah were to shoot were immobile targets. After being instructed to aim, Chinnatah and a few other Tusken children prepared their projectile rifles and then fired.

Only two of the targets were hit, and even the keen-eyed instructor seemed unsure as to which uli-ah had hit which one.

Finally, after considering the matter, he barked out, _One at a time!_

The first to try missed it, while the second Ghorfa nicked the target on the side. Chinnatah lifted his rifle, aimed, and—after a moment of hesitation—let his feelings guide him. A dead hit.

Yrketh, the rifle instructor, stared at Chinnatah through his eyeslits. Chinnatah kept his head up, not daring to move. Yrketh snarled, [Have you been stalking off to practice?]

Chinnatah gave one sharp negative hand motion, not showing fear but instead respect for authority.

[Hit the target again!]

Chinnatah lifted his projectile rifle, aimed, and then shot. Right in the middle.

[We will see how well you shoot when mounted. Retrieve a bantha,] the teacher instructed Chinnatah, turning towards Mrekln to spit another order: [Shoot.]

As Chinnatah walked off to find Vrentlla, he couldn't help but notice that Mrekln missed.

****

"Aim carefully, now," the Weapons Master, Giles Durane, cautioned. He had been teaching Leia Organa self-defense and combat skills and found her to be a willing and skilled student.

Leia rolled her eyes, brought up the small blaster pistol, aimed, and then pulled the trigger. "Bullseye!" she said triumphantly.

"How did you—?" Durane cut himself off. "I should expect that from you by now, princess."

Leia just smiled. Little did he know that Obi-Wan's "Force" had helped her in ways he couldn't imagine.

Really, she still wasn't sure how the Force worked. But even though the Jedi had been strangely hesitant to teach her at first, his instructions had resulted in things she would have never thought could happen.

The first thing Obi-Wan had taught her was how to put up a mental block. She hadn't understood the purpose of this exercise, and she still didn't know if it actually worked, but she tried to keep the mental block up at all times, for the Jedi Master had stressed it. He claimed that he was constantly helping her maintain the shield, and he had told her many times that she was forbidden to tell anyone of his existence on Alderaan. She knew the reason to that, however, for the Jedi Purge was reason enough. She had her suspicions that it was the Purge that was the real reason behind her need to maintain a "mental shield," but even as she formed those suspicions she couldn't help but think that there was an even bigger reason she was unaware of...

****

Chinnatah stared down at the ground. The tribe his Ghorfa clan belonged to had temporarily banded with two other Tusken tribes, and they were planning to attack the outskirts of Anchorhead, one of Tatooine's smaller towns. Most of the Tuskens were looking eagerly on and clutching their gaffi sticks as the Tusken leaders quietly talked.

The citizens of Anchorhead had become more confident, venturing more often into the rocky Jundland Wastes, the place that the Ghorfa clans called home. The Sand People were very territorial, and they were ready to retaliate despite such little provocation. Ordinarily, Tatooinian colonists refrained from wandering far from their isolated communities, but now the colonists had unknowingly given the chance for the Ghorfa to kill two womp rats with one stone: they would be warning Tatooinian colonists to stay away from the Jundland Wastes while also "confiscating" useful tools and equipment from them.

The adult Tuskens were even recruiting some of the younger Ghorfa to aid in the attack (as well as some of the women, which was especially shocking since males tended to be the aggressors), and Chinnatah had the feeling that he was to be asked to help. He glanced over at Vrentlla, who was gazing at him knowingly. She let loose a low moan.

They couldn't ask him if they couldn't find him, he mused as he fingered a smooth pebble he had found moments ago. He was a collector of small rocks, hard to find though they sometimes were due to Tatooine's ever-indecisive sand. Though most of the rocks he found were as drab as the rest of the Tatooinian landscape, occasionally he would find one with remarkable coloring. He motioned to Vrentlla after placing the pebble into his small carryall pouch, walking over a dune to remove himself from the eyesights of the other Tuskens. He hopped onto the cub's back, even though he knew that if he, a mere uli-ah, were spotted on a bantha he would face the disapproval of other Tuskens. Only rarely did the Sand People approve of a Ghorfa that had not yet reached adulthood riding a bantha alone, and then it was only in situations where it was necessary to practice combat skills while mounted.

The bantha knew where to go: the large cave she and Chinnatah had found that not even the eldest Tusken Raider knew existed.

****

Leia smoothed her white dress nervously, resisting the urge to play with her hair, which had been intricately and painstakingly styled by her aunts. The three women were determined to turn her into a "Proper Princess" and marry her off to some incompetent male from one of the other ancient ruling houses. Normally, she would do a lot of grumbling after they subjected her head to one of their more elaborate hairstyles. For the moment, however, any annoyance she felt toward the three dowagers was gone, replaced by a sort of apprehensive excitement.

This was the first time she was allowed to accompany her father to a meeting of the Imperial Senate at Imperial Center (or Coruscant, as it was formerly called), and she could practically feel the tension radiating off her father. For some reason, Obi-Wan had stayed at home, but he had made sure to emphasize—repeatedly—the importance of her maintaining a proper mental shield.

Exchanging a smile with her father, the thirteen-year old girl stepped out of the landspeeder, following him.

When Bail brought her into the building, she had to keep her jaw from dropping. Her own home was more luxurious than most, but this place was _enormous_.

Her father introduced her to several people whose names she instantly forgot, but it wasn't long at all before she saw _them_, two people with names she could never forget...The two most infamous humans in the galaxy—the heads of the Jedi Purge.

Both the dark helmet and the pair of piercing orange eyes turned her way, and she felt as if the two men—if they could still be called that—were able to see into her soul. Shivering, she looked almost pleadingly at her father, who was busy talking to a Rodian and a member of a species she could not identify. Her eyes drifted over the heads in the court as she tried to take her mind off the two Sith Lords.

...Over there was an alien whose species she had never seen before (she should have paid more attention in her classes!), there was a Twi'lek who looked vaguely familiar (an acquaintance of her father's, perhaps?), there was an obviously plotting Bothan (when _weren't_ they plotting?), there was a redheaded human—

—who was staring at Leia with piercing green eyes.

Biting her lip, Leia decided that the atmosphere was too constricting for her taste, and she disappeared out a door she had seen earlier and been curious about. Her father wouldn't miss her for a while. He might be angry when he found she had left, but she would rather face a lone kidnapper or assassin than the tension choking the inhabitants in _this_ room.

Continuing down the corridor, she finally found an entrance to a small, empty courtyard where she melted onto a bench. At last—privacy.


	4. The Hiding Suns

Looking back to make sure no one had followed him, Chinnatah at last entered the cave, his loyal bantha companion following him closely. He sat quietly down on the dusty floor, pulling his legs up to his chest after gently setting down his gader stick. He had left his projectile rifle at the camp, shunning the weapon. He would take his chance against Tatooine's more hostile predators with his more traditional Tusken weapon.

The cavern loomed ominously before him, but he could only see a vague outline of the cave walls near the entrance.

For some reason, the darkness was comforting to him. There was a certain stillness about it that made him feel as if his senses were heightened. Every time Vrentlla shifted, Chinnatah could hear the rustling of her coarse fur against the ground; he didn't need to see her to know where she was. Such awareness to his surroundings would prove fortunate in a battle against anyone that sought to enter the cave.

The bantha sat down beside him, carefully pressing her larger bulk against his thin body, trying to be comforting. Patting her hornless head gently, Chinnatah stared into nothingness for a minute. Then, with an inquisitive hand, he found the small crevice into which he had previously deposited a few supplies in the case of an emergency or a desperate need to be away, the latter of which he was currently feeling.

He often felt a need to be away—there were many Ghorfa customs that he shied away from. He had come to the cave several times when adolescent Tuskens were performing the ritual bloodrites they had been tasked with. He knew his clan didn't approve of his refusal to take part in the ritual, and unless he grandly proved his worthiness when it was time for his rite of passage, he knew he would probably be exiled from his clan.

He couldn't help it, though. Simply watching the bloodrites made him sick. He remembered the first time he had witnessed a bloodrite a few birthing seasons previously. An adolescent Tusken had captured a desert wraid and brutally tortured it, managing to prolong its life for several sunsets and receiving a lot of admiration for how long he had been able to keep it alive.

Sometimes, in his sleep, Chinnatah could still hear the pained cries the desert wraid had made before its spirit had been crushed by pain...

Chinnatah had been even more sickened when, half a birthing season ago, Mrekln had caught and performed the bloodrite on a human. Performing it on a sentient being gained the greatest amount of prestige, and Mrekln had been very proud of his success. Chinnatah had visited the cave many times during that period, suppressing the urge to retch, as he would lose precious body fluids in doing so.

Shivering with the memory of the bloodrites and trying to wipe such thoughts from his mind, Chinnatah grabbed a hubba gourd and began to eat it after removing the rags covering his mouth. Hubba gourds were tough-skinned melons that tended to be difficult to digest. The fruits were especially important to Tusken Raiders and Jawas, for they had a variety of uses. Perhaps most important was their surprisingly nutritious content, which allowed Tuskens to subsist on a steady diet of hubba gourds. Tuskens did, however, sometimes hunt womp rats for food or—more rarely—eat banthas that were too old or sick to serve as transportation. In most cases, it took a trained eye to find the hubba gourds, despite the fact that the fruits were covered with tiny reflective crystals. The suns and the sand of the vast desert wasteland often played tricks on the inexperienced eye, and not all that sparkled was a hubba gourd. Although there was a Healer in every clan, all of the Sand People were taught basic medicinal skills and knew that the rind of the hubba gourd could stop infections, a common occurrence on the skins of belligerent peoples like the nomadic Ghorfa.

After eating his fill—for Chinnatah was not eating out of necessity but out of need for comfort—the rag-clad humanoid handed the remainder of the hubba gourd to Vrentlla, who eagerly but gently ate it out of his hand.

Chinnatah ran his cloth-covered hand through the no-longer-soft fur of the bantha before reaching back into the crevice for a water pouch. Although Tuskens would sometimes steal water from unsuspecting homesteads, this particular pouch of water had been filled at one of the Tuskens' hidden desert oases, the main source of the Sand People's water. The sacred oases were not only difficult-to-find but were also tightly and jealously guarded—and with good reason. Water was precious on Tatooine.

After only a few sips of water, Chinnatah froze. The pouch was swiftly returned to its hiding place, Chinnatah's face was quickly covered (for, other than after bonding ceremonies between male and female Tusken Raiders, seeing another Tusken's face was grounds for either banishment or a duel to the death), and his gader stick was held out. Already standing, the young Ghorfa tensed. Someone else was in the cave.

****

Leia frowned down at the courtyard floor. She felt as if she could sense malicious emotions emanating from the building.

"Politicians," she sighed to herself.

She heard something creak, and her head shot up sharply.

****

Vrentlla let out a low warning growl, a rarity for the normally quiet and unaggressive bantha. Chinnatah stood stock-still, his muscles tensed and his senses finely attuned to his surroundings.

[No need to worry,] a voice said as softly as possible in the Tusken language of guttural grunts and snorts. [Your mother sent me after you, and I saw you disappear into here. This cavern is well-hidden, however, and had I not seen you, I might never have known it was here. It is surprising you discovered it.]

Chinnatah allowed himself to relax somewhat, though not fully, for he had a sneaking suspicion of what was to come. Disappointment at his hiding spot's being discovered did not come; he knew such was to happen eventually.

[You cannot hide from your own father, even if you dare to defy Ghorfa teachings by riding a bantha prematurely. Yes. I have noticed, and I am sure others of the clan have as well. Regardless, you are to be on the raiding party with the rest of us. I will not have you be a liability. You will work as the rest of the clan does. It is nearly time to return to the Needles to wait out the sandstorm season.]

Setting his jaw, Chinnatah followed Xyd'rr'u out of the cave. Whimpering, Vrentlla exited as well, her tail swishing gently against the ground.

****

"Pardon me if I frightened you, milady." The girl—woman?—curtsied, but her fiercely glinting green eyes belied the politeness of the gesture.

Leia stood, suppressing a frown. "It's all right. What is it that you want?" Mentally, she added, _And why were you staring at me?_

"I merely wished to tell you that you might want to watch your footing..."

"Why is that?" Leia inquired suspiciously, slowly inching her hand toward her hidden blaster. She didn't like this person.

"I wouldn't try that, miss," the girl informed her in monotone. She then began speaking regularly, addressing Leia's question, "Why? Because the ground is rather..._slippery_ out here. After all, a lot of unwanted _leaves_ litter it, if one takes my meaning..." She curtsied again, another glimmer of spite showing in her eyes. "Farewell."

Watching the redhead leave, Leia shivered. Suddenly, she felt she would be a lot safer if she were closer to her father.

Leia waited a few moments before leaving the way the strange girl had, praying she would never meet up with her again.

****

They were nothing but bandits, Chinnatah fumed. He was surveying the carnage around what had once been the outskirts of a Tatooinian town inhabited by innocent people. Some of those living on the outskirts of Anchorhead had managed to escape and would eventually return to rebuild and move on, but the numbers of the slain were far too high for the young Ghorfa's taste.

As Chinnatah watched members from all three tribes salvage what useful tools and equipment they could, he felt as if he were going to be sick. It was their way of life, the uli-ah tried to tell himself, but untaught morals threatened to override necessity. In fact, those morals had actually conquered necessity when the battle had begun, and he had purposefully avoided shooting any of the townspeople. Fortunately, none of the other Tuskens had noticed his uncharacteristically poor aim. Not this time, at least.

Chinnatah heard pained groans, so he turned slightly to look at the banthas. A few were dead, their muttering owners standing beside them and uttering words understood only by themselves. Chinnatah averted his gaze, turning his eye tubes to look at the scavenging Raiders once again. When a Tusken Raider lost his bantha mount, he was considered incomplete, an outcast from his people. The Sand People would not kill such outcasts, however. Instead, the spirit of the dead bantha would decide. If the spirit wanted the Tusken to bond with another mount, when the Tusken was released into the desert he would find a wild bantha, join with it, and return to the tribe. Otherwise, the outcast would hopelessly wander the desert until he met his death.

But Tuskens were not the only ones upset at the loss of their symbiotic partners; some of the Tuskens had died as well, and their bantha mounts were beginning to engage in a frenzy, bashing against each other and causing a ruckus that was ignored by most of the Raiders that weren't in the immediate vicinity. Those mounts which did not kill themselves in such suicidal frenzies would soon be turned loose in the desert to either die or survive on their own.

Forcing his emotions back, trying not to think about the soft brown eyes of his own bantha companion, Chinnatah stepped forward, reluctantly picking through the mangled parts of what used to be a speeder.

The bandits were swift in their work, accustomed to separating junk from "treasure." Their tattered rags and robes only gave them a more ominous appearance as they bypassed the corpses for machines. One Tusken, a female Chinnatah suspected, though because she was a uli-ah she was missing the elaborate jeweled mask and torso-covering sand-shroud typical of _adult_ Tusken Raiders, stared at Chinnatah for a moment before returning to her work. In reality, Tuskens made little distinction between male and female uli-ah; only the clan elders kept records of the uli-ah's genders, for the purpose of arranging marriages when the uli-ah passed rites of passage for adulthood, as well as for upgrading the appearance of the newly recognized adult Tusken Raiders.

Chinnatah ignored her; she had been infatuated with him ever since she had realized his skill at fighting. Again, those morals were tugging at him that told him sentient beings should not be so obsessed with violence.

He thought for a moment about whether he could salvage the piece of gaffi-smashed equipment he held in his hand, dropping it when he heard a blood-chilling howl.

The Tusken bandits scattered, grabbing what they could and jumping onto their mounts or, as was true with the older uli-ah present, jumping onto mounts behind other Tuskens. They urged their surprisingly swift banthas to take them away in single file from where they knew the krayt dragon would soon release its fury. They moved on toward the Needles, a section of the Jundland Wastes, for protection from both the ravaging dragon and the sandstorm season. The adolescent bondless banthas were already waiting in the Needles with a few of the female Tuskens and massifs and the younger uli-ah from the various clans. There was very little Tuskens were afraid of, but krayt dragons were certainly feared by all.

After the sandstorm season, the Sand People would still remain in or near the Needles, for the height of summer was the krayt dragon mating season and the canyons would echo with terrifying howls that even Ghorfa would flee from. Most Tuskens felt a sort of reverence for the krayt dragon, respecting the fearsome beast's killing power, yet one rite of passage for Tusken youngsters was the hunting of a krayt dragon, though such success tales were rare.

This particular roar seemed to belong to a canyon dragon, which was a ten meter tall example of the vicious meat-eating desert reptiles. But even though the canyon dragon was one of the smaller krayt dragons, it could easily cause residents of Tatooine to worry. And so the Tusken Raiders continued on to the Needles. The dead were left behind to gaze blankly after the long line of scuff marks in the sand caused by the Tuskens' banthas, though the sight didn't last for long; the desert wind soon swept all signs of the nomads away.

****

"I'm so glad that's over," Leia sighed, walking with her father to their speeder. On Coruscant, they drove the noisy and obnoxious speeders; had they been on Alderaan, they would probably have ridden the beautiful thrantas, which looked like flying sea-creatures. Leia didn't mind riding in the speeders too much, though; their Alderaanian pilot was an artist who usually had interesting pieces to show Leia.

"I noticed that you disappeared for a little while...You didn't get into too much trouble, I hope?" Bail turned an admonishing eye toward his adopted daughter.

Looking guilty for having left, the young girl looked down at the ground. "I'm sorry, Father."

"I understand how you feel. Just remember to be careful and keep up that shield Obi-Wan has been encouraging."

"Why?" Leia inquired, stopping to stare earnestly at Bail Organa.

The man sighed. "One day, I will be able to tell you. For now, Leia, just know that it is absolutely necessary."

She nodded, and finally they reached the source of their transportation. But they could tell something was wrong.

Face pale, Bail ordered Leia to stand back, and he opened the speeder, staring at the dead driver. The man's mouth was parted in an eternally silent scream of terror; his eyes were wide, full of surprise, regret, and fear. An inactive vibroblade rested deep in his chest, quietly daring anyone to reach in and take it out. The man's once-white front was drenched in blood which dripped down onto the floor and the driver's seat, staining both scarlet as it pounded out an unceasing rhythm. He had been killed very recently—the blood hadn't coagulated yet.

Bail stared for a moment in horror. Suddenly, he turned Leia away so that she wouldn't have to look at the bloody sight, though he knew she had already seen far too much of it. Bail made a quick call on his comlink, talking in a low voice, and then he hailed a public cab. Bail ushered Leia into the speeder, sitting beside her and giving the cab driver instructions.

Turning to his ashen daughter, Bail held her head against his chest, trying to stroke her hair comfortingly. "I'm so sorry you had to see that, Leia..."

"Wh—wh—?" But no words could express the turmoil Leia was feeling.

Bail shushed her, answering in a bitter tone she had never heard him use before: "Jayk was an artist, Leia. The beautiful works he has shown you—works he put his heart and soul into—they are controversial ones he could not help but make...He hated the Empire, and he didn't try to hide that in his art, though he knew quite well that the Empire controls artistic expression in its own terrible way..."

Trembling, Leia couldn't help but remember the look of terror that had been eternally imprinted on the dead man's eyes. He had been given no real chance at life—he'd been killed for his artistic expression. His death was needless, born out of the fear living in an empire brought about. She had heard stories about what corruption did to people in the Empire—had even heard some of them from her own father. Suddenly, the Empire had dealt Leia a personal blow.

It was that moment that Leia truly began to build up her hatred of the Empire. _Now_, the stories weren't just stories...

Their driver, Jayk, had always been kind to her. He had a wife and two children back at home. But now that family was incomplete...and always would be.

Leia squeezed her eyes shut tightly as the image of Jayk, of his fear and his innocence and his art, continued to haunt her.

****

Chinnatah stared straight forward through his eyeslits, shifting slightly on the thin saddle he was sitting on, receiving a quick glance over the shoulder from the Tusken sitting in front of him: his father, who clutched the bantha's scalloped, curving horns for a moment as he made sure his son was exhibiting proper uli-ah behavior.

Xyd'rr'u's male bantha grunted, as if to let Chinnatah know that he was still beneath him. Chinnatah gave the bantha a light pat that seemed to satisfy him.

Ahead, seated behind the leader of Chinnatah's tribe, one of the banthaless adult Tuskens sat. Yet another banthaless Raider sat behind a Tusken riding near the leader. The outcasts looked dejected, slumped down in shame. Finally, after the swaying banthas had climbed yet another dune, the lead Raider muttered a sharp command to the other Tuskens in the procession, who stopped their banthas. The extra adult passengers slowly slid off the banthas, their body language conveying what words could not. They went to stand in front of the mounted Ghorfa leader, who slid off his bantha and raised his gaffi stick.

Chinnatah and the other Tusken Raiders climbed down from their mounts, thrashing their gaderffii and gader sticks in the air. Eventually, they stilled, standing at attention with upraised weapons. With a final turn toward the members of the tribe, the outcasts gave a simultaneous cry and walked out into the cruel desert. The Ghorfa tilted their heads toward the twin suns, letting loose a loud cry that sent nearby foraging womp rats scattering and chattering.

Wishing the parting Sand People well, the remaining Tusken Raiders sliced their gader sticks and gaderffii through the air. Chinnatah's well-wishing was not very lively; he couldn't see why these Tuskens had to be left to fend for themselves in the first place. The likelihood that they would be able to find a bantha and rejoin with the tribe was slim to none, and it bothered him.

Xyd'rr'u's bantha bumped him gently with his large horns, sensing his unrest. Chinnatah gently rubbed his hand across the bantha's nose. Why wasn't he able to accept the Tusken way of life?

****

Leia sat down on her bed, still quivering from her earlier shock. Death had always seemed so distant; it had always been just a far-off possibility, never an actual reality. People died, yes, but it had always been people she hadn't known...People she hadn't seen.

She had been sheltered from the reality of death—her mother had died when she was young, and she was barely able to remember her. It was only now that Leia realized how much she had been sheltered. She had finally seen death up close, had smelled its rancid odor...

A bitter taste still lingered in her mouth. She clutched her stomach as bile began to rise up in her throat.

The Empire was responsible for this fear and corruption, and, somehow, one day, she would make sure the Empire paid the price in full.


	5. Ambushing the Suns

Chinnatah sat motionlessly beside one of the several upright Tusken tents, or urtya, watching the suns set. Colors seemed to spiral across the sky like a brilliant mosaic or a fleeting dance that only he seemed to enjoy.

He could always count on the Tatooinian suns, even when everything and everyone else in his life seemed to change or turn against him. Every day, the twin suns would rise and set, sprinkling the horizon with splendid colors. Such colors were never seen in the bland Tusken camps, for Tuskens were always trying to blend into their surroundings—after all, it was easier for them to attack and avoid an attack that way.

Not that they should _need_ to avoid an attack...

Chinnatah sighed. The Ghorfa's violent ways made them outcasts from Tatooinian society. If the Sand People would just give up their old customs, life could become easier for them...But no, even thinking about changing the ancient customs was considered a sin, punishable by death.

Tusken Raiders held onto little: skulls of their ancestors, legends of the past, and pearls taken, long ago, from Krayt dragons. It was always the past and the future that Raiders emphasized: battles that _had_ taken place or _would_ take place...The Sand People never seemed truly concerned about the present.

The suns had disappeared, and a raging fire sprung up, illuminating the darkness and causing shadows to play across the ominous-looking urtya. A Ghorfa ritual was about to begin.

The Elders began the ritual wearing spirit masks fashioned from natural materials. This ritual addressed the victorious conquest of those who had lived on the outskirts of Anchorhead.

The mimicking of the battle soon began, Tuskens acting as Tuskens defeating those who played the slain. One Ghorfa acting as a bantha reared back dramatically, slashing at the air with crudely fashioned horns.

Watching for a few moments, Chinnatah finally decided he couldn't stand being reminded of the cruelty of his people for much longer, and he began to sneak away, Vrentlla waiting a few moments before following. Mrekln saw the pair, and he snarled beneath his breath. One day, he would rid the desert planet of those two weaklings, Mrekln told himself, hissing through his breathmask.

****

Leia smiled at the cowled man walking beside her. They were supposed to meet her father at the Alderaani Honeyblossom Park, though they knew that Bail might be a little late, as he was giving Hric Dahlney careful instructions on how to deal with Alliance contacts.

Obi-Wan winked back at the young girl at his side, his eyes sparkling beneath his hood. Suddenly, his cheery mood was interrupted by an eerie feeling that not all was as it should be. He looked around, probing as much with the Force as he dared, but he could find nothing.

Nonetheless, he muttered to Leia that perhaps they should walk faster.

Several yards away, green eyes retreated from behind a pair of macrobinoculars. One day, the being vowed, that smug grin would be wiped off the face of the spoiled princess.

********************

Another Standard Galactic Year had passed by, and now, at fourteen Standard Years of age, or seven birthing seasons, Chinnatah was only one year away from Tusken adulthood. It was no small honor for Tuskens to bestow adulthood on uli-ah, for Ghorfa adolescents had to survive rigorous rites of passage to be considered adults—such was why Tuskens were considered most dangerous during their adolescent years. Young Raiders were required to complete these rites of passage after seven and a half birthing seasons for full tribal acceptance; doing so at an earlier age was frowned upon, and an older Tusken that had failed to complete a rite of passage was considered an outcast. There were no exceptions to the rule.

Chinnatah stared blankly across at a dead womp rat. It was oozing blood and still twitching—womp rats tended to somehow cling to an appearance of life for a while after death. The creature had been brought back by the hunting party and was currently being cleaned by his mother Arr't'ni, as females usually maintained the camp while the males hunted and fought. He felt his anger at the Tusken culture slowly weakening. Everyone else resigned themselves to their jobs; why must he be the one to provide them with even more trouble? The desert planet did enough to keep the nomads on their toes without one of their own assisting in wreaking havoc.

He began to walk toward his working mother, as if to say something, but he soon found a solid obstacle in his path. Slowly, he lifted his chin up and craned his head back. Despite the unisex robe worn by all Tusken uli-ah, Chinnatah knew it was Mrekln.

Chinnatah backed up a few steps, finding himself in need of space.

Mrekln's companion, standing a few feet away from him, softly barked something that sounded malicious. If Mrekln's laugh was anything to judge by, the malicious nature of the comment was not to be doubted. Gikahth, the Raider who had spoken, was burly—at least, as far as Tusken uli-ah went—and he stood tensely, as if he were about to pounce on Chinnatah at any moment.

The smallest of the trio began to walk away, but Mrekln was again there to bar his path. [You're not getting away. Follow me, or Gikahth will spill your innards.]

Chinnatah stared ambivalently out his eyetubes, but he said not a word, obliging Mrekln and following him away from the Tusken camp. The other Ghorfa were too busy to notice the departure of the three uli-ah.

****

Leia was sitting on the couch and looking with disgust at a datapad holding the latest piece of Imperial propaganda. She shifted angrily, the delicate white fabric of her dress—which had been picked out by her Aunt Rouge—shimmering with the movement. What was the galaxy coming to? Why couldn't more planets attempt to be peaceful and honest like Alderaan?

Very few weapons existed on Alderaan; Bail's illegally hiring someone to give Leia weapons training was startling enough. But she knew as well as Bail did that she was not destined to live out her life on Alderaan. One day, she would venture away from the planet, wonderful though it was, and she would somehow help resurrect the Republic out of its ashes.

Although her father didn't know of her extended knowledge of the matter, Leia knew he had been privately assisting the Rebels against the Empire, working with a Chandrilan named Mon Mothma and a Corellian named Garm Bel Iblis to strengthen a Rebel Alliance against Palpatine. At present, the Rebels weren't a real threat to the Empire since they were still very unorganized (though Bel Iblis _had_ made a few strong military strikes), but as each day went by and demonstrated the lengths of the Empire's cruelty, the ranks of Rebels went up. One day, Leia vowed to herself, she would aid the dissenters as her father did. But she would be more periodic with her help when she became a senator, regularly transporting food and medical supplies, delivering funds, and recruiting new members to the Rebel Alliance...Yes, one day...

The princess sighed, resigned to the fact that there was not much she could do presently. She stood up and walked out of her room, staring at the ground pensively. Such was why she didn't notice the man hiding in the shadows until she felt the cool metal of a blaster against her temple and heard his gruff voice mutter, "Don't move."

She froze; it was too late for her self-defense training to kick in.

Another being emerged from the shadows, this one a malicious-looking alien with tusks.

"You're coming with us," the blaster-wielding human spat.

****

[This is what we are going to do,] Mrekln began, keeping the narrow metal tubes covering his eyes trained pointedly on Chinnatah. [First, we're going to find some crystal burst,] he explained, clenching his fists in anticipation and filling Chinnatah with dread. "Crystal burst" was adolescent Tusken slang for "sugar water." Sugar water was a rarity on Tatooine; only the wealthiest Tatooinian residents could be found "tainting" pure water with sugar. [And then we're going to steal three landspeeders and race them through Beggar's Canyon.]

Chinnatah lifted his chin slightly, the corroded metal filter covering his mouth giving him the appearance of hesitation. Even simple sugar water could easily intoxicate Tusken Raiders...To steal _three_ vehicles _while intoxicated_ was an action bordering on suicidal. But Chinnatah, resigned to his fate, merely nodded. He had heard one of the other Tusken uli-ah whispering about Mrekln and his gader stick half a birthing season ago. The uli-ah had said that Mrekln dipped his blade in lethal sandbat venom, which was usually only done by the greatest and most confident Tusken warriors, as anyone who accidentally touched a little bit of the venom on the blade could soon be lying in Death's bed. _He_ certainly didn't want to be the one to confirm Mrekln's use of sandbat venom.

Gikahth looked at Chinnatah sharply when the latter shifted his gader stick to the other hand, but Gikahth was satisfied to learn that Chinnatah was only intending to use the weapon as a walking stick along the craggy Tatooinian mesas. Before they headed off, Mrekln growled a quiet order to Chinnatah to remain silent and follow his orders.

At last, they came upon one of the places that Mrekln and Gikahth had staked out. It was impressive by Tatooinian standards, obviously belonging to one of the wealthier residents of Tatooine, and since the home's contents were more promising than most, its security fence was probably top-of-the-line.

Chinnatah stared at the building from his far vantage point. It was going to be tough getting in and out, and if they did so, their retreat was most likely going to be taking place with gunfire at their backs.

He moved his head fractionally to take in the setting suns. Was now his time to die? Here, with two of his worst enemies?

Somehow, he felt he should be more apprehensive about the ordeal, but the apprehension never came. With the cycle of life came death, and if it were his time to die, then who was he to try to stop it?

Mrekln spoke softly, interrupting Chinnatah's thoughts, [We could go on in spite of the alarms...Or we could try to disarm them. Gikahth, how about we send Chinnatah out to do so? He's expendable.] The last he growled pointedly in Chinnatah's direction, but still the uli-ah would not allow himself to be provoked into either action or speech.

Gikahth made a hand gesture signifying agreement, and Chinnatah gazed at the home once again. Tusken mechanical skills were usually rudimentary, normally just enough to fix malfunctioning projectile rifles or perhaps get a speeder to start. For Chinnatah to try to disable alarms belonging to someone who was probably fully aware of that fact—_and_ for him to succeed—would require a degree of luck that Chinnatah was not sure he possessed. Luck...or direct help from the gods.

He looked to the sky once more. The Ghorfa would always perform ceremonies to appease the gods before attempting such a feat. For Mrekln and Gikahth to forego any such gesture merely reinforced the image of their recklessness.

He glanced at the pair. Their metal eye tubes were turned his way as they waited for him to make a move.

They weren't going to press the matter, Chinnatah knew. Though their disgust for him was great, neither expected him to actually attempt to disable the security fence, for there was little chance that it would actually work. By the same token, if he refused, they would never let him live it down. Either way, they would get what they wanted.

Tightening his fists barely perceptibly, Chinnatah made a quick decision. If he tripped the alarms, perhaps the pair would decide to cut the trip short, and there would be no theft of landspeeders. If he knocked out the alarms, then the danger in stealing the crystal burst would be decreased dramatically.

Chinnatah moved silently forward over the dune. The other two uli-ah watched him as darkness began to cover the ground and hide his movements.

The whole alarm system was rather complicated, but the functioning of this particular security fence depended on a sole power source.

Chinnatah froze pensively. The residents of the building must be confident that the Sand People wouldn't try to penetrate their defenses if they relied on a single power source for the security fence surrounding their home. It was then that he remembered Ghorfa warnings away from this particular building. While Tusken Raiders neither knew nor cared about the current governmental state of the galaxy, it was known that an Imperial lived here and it was also known that Imperials tended to be very aggressive. His wealth pointed to the possibility that he had guards and more extensive alarm systems inside. On Tatooine, exterior alarms were mostly used to protect residents from Tusken Raiders, while interior alarms were used to protect them from Rebels and angry civilians. Even if Chinnatah managed to get past the security fence, it was dubious as to whether he would still be able to get inside.

But Luck seemed to be with him that day.

His first priority was disabling the foolishly-located power source. He stared at the collection of wires and gears and closed his eyes momentarily, letting his instincts guide him.

With a few careful uses of his hands and the hook of his gader stick, Chinnatah somehow managed to achieve his goal. After listening to make sure that no alarms had sounded, he gesticulated toward Mrekln and Gikahth, and they swiftly but stealthily joined him while trying not to give evidence of their surprise.

That might have been the extent of their accomplishments had they not suddenly heard the far-off hum of a pair of landspeeders. After a moment's hesitation, they pressed up against the building like wraiths, making sure to be on the side opposite of the garage, which was where the landspeeders seemed to be heading.

The speeders finally stopped, their drivers hopping out only to grab a box from their respective vehicles. The owner of the house had given them a remote to deactivate the alarms temporarily, which was why when the Imperial officer had received the notification that the exterior alarms were no longer online he did not worry.

They set several boxes out in front of the garage, pausing for a moment when the landspeeders had been emptied to wipe their brows.

One of them, a human male with bright yellow hair, muttered in Basic to his companion, a human male with graying hair, "Seems like a waste of perfectly good water to me. The rich have it far too good if they're willin' to taint _R'alla mineral water_ with sugar. Most people on Tatooine would give their right legs to have just one box of this stuff _without_ the blazin' sugar dumped into it."

"Yeah, but we aren't paid to question our employers. We bring the stuff here, we leave. That's our job," the older man reprimanded him.

"That doesn't mean I have to like—" the yellow-haired human cut off with a gurgle as a gader stick was hurled through his chest, courtesy of Mrekln.

Before the older man could even venture to raise the alarm, Gikahth had killed him.

[It looks like our work here is almost done,] Mrekln said in Tusken, his pleasure at getting the crystal burst so easily just barely evident in his voice. [And it looks like we already have two of our speeders. Now, _you_ just have to go get one, Chinnatah.]

The introspective uli-ah clutched his gader stick just a little tighter.

****

"What are you going to do to me?" Leia gritted as she wriggled in her chair, trying to find some sort of way to break her restraints. Unfortunately, she had been disarmed, so there was no chance that her blaster might aid her.

She had asked the question ten times in the past five minutes, and her burly male captor was getting tired of it. "Just tell her, Ksuts," he growled, "she's giving me a headache."

The alien made some sort of screeching noise in the back of her throat. She began to speak, but it was hard for Leia to understand her, as her voice was muffled by her tusks. "The Viceroy has displeased our employer, who received information that he has been hiding the location of a group of refugee Caamasi...You are going to be the bargaining chip that allows us to find out that location."

Leia kept her face blank, but her insides froze. A few weeks ago, with her father and Obi-Wan, she had visited the secret Caamasi refugee camps on Alderaan. The Caamasi were a kind people whose world had been brutally destroyed. Leia, like her father and Obi-Wan, suspected that it was the Empire's doing, but there was no proof. Tears nearly came to her eyes as she remembered the hundreds of colorful flags that had been flying in the wind and proudly bearing beautiful Caamasi family crests. Amazingly, despite the destruction of their world, the Caamasi remained as gentle and loving as ever.

"Who is your employer?" she ventured, not expecting to get a reply but still wanting to try.

"If you believe we'll answer that, you're more stupid than I gave you credit for," the human laughed.

Leia Organa felt her face turn red, but she tried restrain her emotions. She couldn't allow them to rattle her. "When are you going to let me go?"

"As soon as we get a reply from your _darling daddy_," the human smirked.

Leia settled down into her chair, fuming.

****

Chinnatah wasn't sure how he had managed to steal the landspeeder. One minute he was running as swiftly as he could toward an open garage; the next he was speeding off in the stolen vehicle, alarms blazing in his ears. When he finally reached the dune Mrekln and Gikahth were hiding behind, he discovered that the two uli-ah had already broken into one of the cases of sugar water and were already well on their way to intoxication.

He debated whether or not to just return back to camp, but he had already been spotted by them, and—drunk or not—Mrekln was not going to let him go that easily, and he snarled tipsily at Chinnatah to join them.

Chinnatah complied, pouring some of the R'alla mineral water into his flask hesitantly. Mrekln and Gikahth had paused momentarily in their merrymaking to stare at him. They weren't going to take their eyes off him until he had drank some of the crystal burst.

Closing his eyes beneath his rags, Chinnatah turned aside his head, moving the cloth just enough for him to drink a little of the sugar water in his flask. That was all he would drink, he told himself. He waited, on pins and needles, for the water to start taking effect.

When it didn't, he moved his puzzled gaze toward the spot where Mrekln and Gikahth were having the time of their lives. It wasn't long before the pair began getting aggressive and started shoving each other, snarling in the harsh Tusken tongue.

[Yeah? Wehhll, I beth I cod beatcha,] Mrekln slurred.

[Yeah? Thow me, you—] Gikahth spat a Tusken swearword. Then he blurted an unintelligible stream that sounded as if it were _supposed_ to be full of more curses.

[I wehhll. Leth get in the thveederth ant rayth. You thoo Thinnah.]

Knowing Mrekln was would be even more dangerous and foolhardy when intoxicated, Chinnatah had no choice but to comply, following Mrekln and Gikahth uneasily as they veered drunkenly off toward Beggar's Canyon.

Chinnatah knew they would only find trouble there.


	6. Trials of the Suns

"What's taking him so long?" the burly man growled under his breath, throwing a brief glance at his prisoner.

Ksuts slowly met his impatient gaze, her tusks catching the dim light. "I do not know," she said in her muffled voice, "but I do not like it."

Leia concentrated on slowing her breathing. She needed to calm down so she could think clearly.

Her father would probably stall as long as he could, maybe even sending Obi-Wan to rescue her. But these two kidnappers were not alone—Leia had heard them talking about the guards outside. Any rescue attempt made by even Obi-Wan would probably result in death.

And if her father didn't try to rescue her, instead revealing the location of the refugee Caamasi, death would again be the end result. Thinking back to her visit to the refugee camps, of the tall and peaceful humanoids covered in soft down, Leia knew she would never be able to let herself live with the thought that _she_ had been one of the reasons for their downfall.

Fortunately, she could think of a third option.

Relaxing in her chair, Leia closed her eyes. She had a wild card and planned to use it to the best of her advantage.

While gently reaching out to the Force, she contemplated her plan. She had heard from somewhere that Jedi could exercise control over the weak-minded. She had not learned enough to perform such an action, but hopefully she would be able to do just as well without.

Outside the room, a small ping was heard. A minute smile touched Leia's face, only to disappear as soon as it had come.

"What was that?" the human male snarled, leaping to his feet, blaster in hand. He stared at the door as if it had barked at him. "I don't like this," he growled.

"I will check it out, Namuth," Ksuts said, her voice sounding tense as she fingered her own weapon. She left the room after carefully peering into the corridor.

Namuth looked at Leia. "I don't like this," he repeated in a quiet hiss, pointing the barrel of his blaster at Leia's head. "If anyone besides Ksuts comes in here, they're going to be sorry."

Something crashed behind him, and he spun around, blaster aimed at the foe that was not there.

Using the Force, Leia turned the setting on his weapon to stun as he began to bring the blaster back, and a blue bolt flashed through the room.

****

They finally reached Beggar's Canyon and lined up the three speeders carefully. Well, _Chinnatah_ was careful—Mrekln and Gikahth were so intoxicated that any such gesture on their part could only be vaguely construed as careful.

Apprehensively, Chinnatah studied the badlands as far as the landspeeder lights would allow him to see. The Jundland Wastes were dangerous enough in the day; at night they were tenfold so. It didn't help that there were many nooks and crannies for small predators to hide in Beggar's Canyon. The region was actually a series of connected canyons, most of which the Tusken Raiders knew quite well. Human settlers had named the canyon for the sound that the wind made as it whistled through the crevices in the rocks. Even now, in the eerie night, it sounded as if a beggar were crying out for help.

Straining his eyes and shivering because of the sad beseeching noise, Chinnatah made a brief movement, one that was often made by Tuskens as a quick prayer to the gods before venturing into danger. He wasn't even certain whether his purpose was prayer or whether he just wanted to reassure himself.

Mrekln began the count...and then their landspeeders shot forward.

Due to their intoxication, Mrekln and Gikahth's response times were limited, but even being drunk did not make Mrekln lose his hatred of Chinnatah or his competitive drive. While Gikahth lagged behind, Mrekln zipped forward, and Chinnatah stayed in the middle, not wanting to win but to keep Gikahth and Mrekln alive, which was a somewhat unTuskenlike attitude on his part.

The route they were on, the Main Avenue, was a straight-shot for about two kilometers. Such apparent ease at navigation was nothing more than a deception, though. Chinnatah knew they would soon come to a sharp-angled right turn—Dead Man's Turn, the humans called it. It had certainly earned its namesake, for if it were taken too fast, the arrogant driver would find himself smashing against the far wall of the turn.

Chinnatah felt his breath catch in his throat. If he were going to save the two Tusken uli-ah, he would have to do it quickly. He was running out of time.

He threw a quick look into the landspeeder to see if there were anything he could use. Spotting a spare blaster power pack on the seat beside him, he leaned over, keeping his eyes on the Main Avenue, and picked the object up. He weighed it experimentally in his hand. It was the best projectile he was likely to get under the circumstances.

Biting his cheek, Chinnatah accelerated his speeder, coming up close behind Mrekln. Gikahth, left even farther behind, began swearing viciously. The moment Mrekln saw the other uli-ah, he began speeding up.

But Chinnatah had seen his opportunity, and he took it, sending the power pack soaring with surprising accuracy _into_ the engine, causing it to cough and die.

Mrekln began cursing quite loudly, thrashing his gader stick in the air as he was swiftly left behind. Chinnatah had another problem to worry about, however, as Gikahth had managed to overtake him. But even as he frantically looked for a projectile, deciding on his gader stick reluctantly and preparing to throw it, he knew it was too late.

Even while inebriated, Gikahth knew that the turn was there; all Tusken Raiders knew the nooks and crannies of Beggar's Canyon well. But because the Tusken was intoxicated, his reaction time was slow and his ability to measure distance had been severely handicapped. So, even though Gikahth slowed to meet the turn, it was an action made in vain.

At least the violence of the explosion ensured that his death was quick and painless.

Chinnatah was meters behind the other Tusken, so he was unable to make a complete stop. Instead, he slowed his velocity as much as possible, barely making the right turn. He was still going too fast to stop, so he followed the zig-zag to the left, then the right, then the left again.

He could stop now, and probably should, but for some unexplainable reason he felt the urge to thread the Eye of the Needle.

The Needle was a natural phenomenon, and it towered 60 meters above the canyon floor. It basically looked like a tall, narrow slot with jagged rock teeth lining the inside of it. Chinnatah realized only too late that the landspeeder he was in was too large to make it through unscathed, and as he attempted to do so he heard the wretched sound of screeching metal against rock, shards flying up from the speeder to dig painfully into his arm. As the uli-ah brought the speeder to a halt, he winced beneath the rags covering his face at the sight of the mangled outside of the speeder. Somehow, the thought that he had won the race was not a joyous one.

Clutching his gader stick in a death-grip, Chinnatah decided he would walk to try to find Mrekln. He certainly didn't want to rush the encounter.

After he hopped out of the speeder, as sort of an afterthought, he walked over to the Needle and carved something into the rock with his gader stick. Tuskens often used their sticks to carve marks indicating clan territories or to leave warnings on rock faces. His mark was a scribble of the latter type.

****

Leia gazed upon Namuth, who was lying on the floor. With the aid of the Force, she had made him stun himself, something she was quite proud of. Focusing hard and straining at the effort, she managed to levitate the blaster and point it at the door. Several times, her Force hold on it almost slipped, and the blaster dipped, but somehow she managed to maintain her grip on it.

Finally, when Leia thought she could not keep the blaster in the air a moment longer, Ksuts entered, saying, "I saw no—"

After one blast from the weapon, Ksuts was down before she could get any more words out.

Knowing she didn't have much time before either one of her kidnapper's accomplices came in, her father gave up the location of the Caamasi refugees, or rescuers came charging into the building with weapons ready, Leia took a deep breath, using the Force to undo the crude restraint that held her to the chair: rope.

She stood up, flexing her sore muscles before bending down to disarm her captors. Somewhat hesitantly, she clipped Ksuts' blaster to her belt after ascertaining that it was set on stun. Grinning to herself, she held the other blaster up in her hand.

Leia reached out to the Force to see if anyone was nearby, and then she peered around the doorframe for a verbal confirmation of what she had sensed. Stepping out in the hall, confident that those she had sensed were further down and to the left, she began creeping down the hallway, freezing when she heard a familiar voice in her head.

_Leia?_

Shocked, she tentatively sent back, _Obi-Wan?_

_We're coming to save you. Stay where you are._ The Jedi cut the Force contact off.

But the princess shook her head. "Sorry, Obi-Wan," she muttered under her breath. "I won't let any more people die." She advanced down the hallway with more assurance; she had a definite purpose now.

The guards had expected an assault from the outside; what they never expected was that the "helpless little girl" they held prisoner would be able to escape. The last thing the two guards saw before darkness took them was a brilliant flash of blue.

Leia continued down the corridor, her senses alert. _Will this hall never end?_ she wondered, pausing as she sensed guards coming around the corner.

After a few bolts from the princess' blaster, they were down. She hadn't walked much further when the alarms started blaring; evidently, someone had found evidence of her handiwork.

She picked up her pace, jogging down the hallway. _What I would give to have a lightsaber..._

Startled, she paused and watched as the wall next to her began melting. A blue-white blade was burning through it, and before long a Jedi Master was stepping through the newly-made hole in the wall.

"Leia?" Obi-Wan ventured, seeming disconcerted by the fact that she was running freely about. "Quickly! Come with me!"

Nodding, Leia complied, following him back out the hole.

The Jedi paused, placing a timed charge by the wall. "We can't let them know someone with a lightsaber has been running about."

They began to flee the scene. Leia, between gasps for breath, inquired as to why he hadn't used the charge to get _into_ the building. "Too noisy," he explained shortly. After she heard the blast caused by the thermal detonator, Leia knew she had to agree.

****

Chinnatah stood, his head down, listening to the grating lecture given to him.

[You behaved like a reckless youth, doing something without any sign of gain; instead, something was lost: a valuable member of the clan.] Indeed, every member _was_ valuable to the clan, for Tusken tribes were usually made up of only twenty to thirty individuals. The loss of one member, even a Tusken child, who was not truly considered a "person" until after having endured the ceremonies that marked him or her as a valuable adult, was felt by all.

Chinnatah did not say he had managed to save Mrekln's life. He did not say he had been forced to go through the ordeal. He did not say he was the least reckless out of all the uli-ah. Instead, he took it all quietly, looking afterward to the Tatooinian suns for comfort.

****

Leia stared down at her left hand, repetitively making two circles in her palm with her right index finger as she listened to her father's lecture. She didn't dare meet his eyes.

"You are not to attempt escape when you know that an escape has already been planned for you. You could have been _killed_," Bail's voice went up a few notches. "If something had happened to you, I—I don't know what I would have done. If it hadn't been for Obi-Wan—"

The Jedi put a hand gently on the senator's shoulder, causing him to jump minutely. "It is all right, Bail," he said soothingly. "The princess is unharmed. Be grateful about her escape."

Bail Organa sighed. "I just—"

"Serenity, Bail," Obi-Wan encouraged him. "Serenity."

****

[We are attacking a Sandcrawler today, Chinnatah,] Arr't'ni said calmly. The Tusken child's head turned to look at her, and she could not help but notice how forlorn his faceless gaze seemed. [The younger uli-ah, of course, will be left behind with some of the women, but you and the older uli-ah must aid the attack.] She stared at him, her jeweled mask gleaming in the suns. [Do not be weak, my son. Above all, we must survive. The Jawas will provide us with combat practice, with supplies.]

Chinnatah nodded slowly. He did not understand, but he wanted to please his mother. Though it was against her nature, she always tried to be kind to him; at least, as kind as Tuskens got. He knew he should be grateful. He shouldn't be fretting over the fact that the Jawas were more than willing to share peaceful relations with Tusken Raiders, as happened from time to time. He shouldn't be worrying that innocent beings would die.

He should be grateful.

****

Leia sighed for what seemed like the umpteenth time. Sitting on the bed beside her was her adopted sister Winter, petting a purrling candy pink pittin belonging to one of Leia's aunts.

"Bail only worries because he loves you," Winter said quietly.

"Do you think that makes it any easier?" the brown-haired girl fumed. She pulled angrily on one of her braids.

The other girl shrugged, delicately but not vainly tucking a strand of her own hair behind her ear. She was often mistaken by visitors to be the princess of the Royal House of Alderaan, for she had the regal air of royalty, while Leia generally had a sort of rough-and-tumble attitude about her. However, Winter was known to have been adopted. Though Winter was older, Leia was considered to be the next-in-line to rule Alderaan, which was perfectly fine with Winter. Though Bail had been like a father to her, Winter still remembered her true parents, and she never referred to Bail as her father.

Perhaps the most amazing thing about Winter was her memory: she could remember the precise details of everything she saw and heard. Leia had once overheard Bail talking to Obi-Wan about using her to help the growing Rebel Alliance. While she knew Winter could be a great asset to the Rebellion, in many ways Leia hoped her friend would not be sent away—Leia _needed_ her calming presence and good advice.

The princess sighed again, but this was a different kind of sigh. This sigh let all her frustrated emotions drain out of her. "You're right, of course. I just wish Father wouldn't worry so much."

"You _do_ get into trouble often," Winter pointed out, stroking the nose of the creature in her lap, which Leia had named AT-AV. The pittin, which was small enough to fit into her cupped hands, snored lightly, twitching its toes sporadically.

Leia thought about denying Winter's statement, but she knew that she was right. Again.

"It's not like I go _looking_ for trouble," Leia couldn't help but claim.

"_It_ finds _you_," Winter smiled.

Leia grinned. "Exactly."

****

The Tusken attack was swift and brutal. Many of the Jawas had been outside of the Sandcrawler preparing droids to try to sell to a moisture farmer. The small, robe-clad creatures died in many ways; some of them were blinded by streams of blood spat out by some of the Tusken Raiders and then killed by gaderffi-thrusts to their chests; others found themselves decapitated; still others fell to the ground with gaping holes in their chests courtesy of Tusken rifles.

Those Jawas inside the Sandcrawler were not safe for long; soon, many of them were also killed.

The Sand People, however, often preferred to subdue some of their captives and take them back as prisoners to the encampment. This they did to some of the Jawas. Later, they would use the captives as part of a fierce "sport" in which they honed their skills at causing their enemies pain.

Outwardly, Chinnatah pretended to be an active participant in the battle. Inwardly, he felt sick.

Arr't'ni, while she was part of the attack, kept a close eye on her son, noticing with disappointment that he avoided harming any of the Jawas and resolving to have a talk with him later.

Soon, the battle was over, the Ghorfa prevailing as they always seemed to. The Raiders hopped on to their bantha mounts, looking from side to side, keeping watch as they rode away from the battle, their shaggy beasts loaded with weapons and water and other goods stolen from the dead Jawas.

****

Chinnatah was tinkering with a faulty blaster rifle when a shadow fell upon him. He looked up, only to find his mother staring down at him. He slowly got to his feet, a sense of dread hanging over him.

[You did not kill today. Some would say you are a coward,] Arr't'ni stated.

The uli-ah held his gaze steady, his eye tubes pointed toward those of the adult Tusken's.

[I know that you are not a coward. In hand-to-hand combat, you can beat any of the uli-ah. But you never kill even the enemy.]

Chinnatah trembled, but he kept his silence.

[This attitude must change, or you will be exiled from the clan. As the suns are continuing to set and you are continuing to refuse to kill, it seems your exile will come very soon. Your trials are approaching, and if you do not earn your place among the Tusken adults, then not only will you not receive a mount or a mate, but you will also no longer be considered a member of the tribe. I do not wish this for you.]

For each uli-ah to earn his place among the Tusken adults, a great feat of skill or prowess had to be performed. The magnitude of this rite of passage determined each uli-ah's station among the Tusken clans. Chinnatah had often seen uli-ah bring back Stormtrooper armor as trophies of their conquest, and other times he had known uli-ah that had raided outlander camps. He was most interested, however, in Tusken lore which had it that four Tusken uli-ah had banded together many birthing seasons ago and killed a krayt dragon without the assistance of banthas. Chinnatah knew that every few birthing seasons other Ghorfa younglings tried to accomplish the same feat, but they always met with gruesome results.

Chinnatah was apprehensive of reaching adulthood. Such an event was viewed as the most important part in a Tusken Raider's life. After a rite of passage had been completed, many rituals would be performed to initiate the successful uli-ah into adulthood. The High Urr'Ak would give the adolescents their gaderffii sticks, which they could never lose, lest they be exiled from the clan as one Tusken had a birthing season ago. The youths would each team up with a bantha to form a deep emotional bond—though Chinnatah wondered sometimes if it were actually the ceremony that brought about the bond. And finally, once each birthing season, the newly recognized adults would be paired together for life in a ceremony which involved the mixing of blood of spouses and their banthas. Afterwards, Chinnatah was told, the Tusken couple, sheltered inside their urtya, would slowly unwrap each other's bindings to see their true forms for the first time.

Arr't'ni kept her voice emotionless but steady. [Tonight we visit Jabba's palace.]

Sand People would sometimes go to the palace of Jabba the Hutt to secretly trade with the B'omarr monks and others living in the Hutt's palace. While the Ghorfa were inside, their bantha mounts would stand outside the palace, looking very skittish and rarely allowing curious creatures to approach them—once, the mount of Chinnatah's father had killed a human that had pestered him. Tusken legend was that the B'omarr monks had built their fortress (which later became Jabba the Hutt's palace) with the aid of roving bands of Tusken Raiders. Sometimes, the Sand People would grimly ride their banthas up to the gate of the palace and stare in silent homage. Simply standing there was said to bring peace, though Chinnatah had never experienced peace there.

Though his insides churned, Chinnatah made a hand gesture that indicated his understanding. He hated the visits to Jabba's palace; the denizens were conniving creatures and cared only about making a quick profit. There was no peace there.

Once Arr't'ni made it clear that he could go, Chinnatah disappeared, off to find Vrentlla for some comfort.


	7. Decisions of the Suns

Soon.

Very, very soon.

Chinnatah could sense the excitement of Mrekln and a few other uli-ah their age, and he almost felt as if he could sense those same emotions from Tuskens in other tribes, though he dismissed the thought as ludicrous. In just a few more sunsets, the Tusken adolescents at seven and a half birthing seasons would be out trying to find ways to become true members of their respective Tusken clans. Such an occurrence happened every year, but never before had Chinnatah been able to pick up on the enthusiasm of others so clearly.

To the annoyance of his Tusken elders, Chinnatah was sitting several meters away from the Sand People encampment and pensively stroking Vrentlla's long, shaggy fur. But such detachment was to the satisfaction of the aggressive Mrekln—adrenaline was surging through his system, and he was ready to pick a fight in private.

Mrekln, who harbored no good will toward the one who had once saved him, reached down and picked Chinnatah up by his rags, dragging him to his feet. Mrekln told him in a growl, [I am going after the _big _canyon, Jawa-guts.] When, as expected, he received no reply, he continued speaking, [Yes, I am going to slay a krayt dragon, and then I am going to bring back her pearl and crack open your pathetic _skull_ with it.]

Mrekln released Chinnatah from his grip. Upon seeing that the smaller uli-ah was still standing, Mrekln shoved him, causing him to stumble backwards.

Somehow, however, Chinnatah managed to keep his footing. After catching himself, he rooted his feet to the ground.

Vrentlla began to growl, the noise starting as a low rumble in the back of her throat. She lowered her giant head, as if she were about to ram Mrekln.

[Are you still not going fight back? Womp rat spit! Son of a sandbat!] Mrekln pushed Chinnatah again, this time much more viciously.

It was at that moment that Vrentlla chose to attack.

She head-butted the spiteful Tusken uli-ah, forcing him to the ground. Suddenly aware of this new enemy, Mrekln picked up his gader stick from where he had dropped it after his fall, and he jumped to his feet and slashed at the angry bantha.

Quivering in a cold rage, Chinnatah summoned up all of his pent-up anger and frustration and _pushed_ Mrekln, the latter Tusken flying back several meters, his gader stick snapping in half.

Mrekln remained frozen, his eyetubes trained on the normally nonviolent uli-ah.

And then Chinnatah realized what had happened. He had been feet away from Mrekln, but he hadn't moved when he had _pushed_ Mrekln back.

The frightened Mrekln finally grabbed his broken gader stick and ran off muttering: [Wizard!]

Chinnatah looked fearfully at a confused Vrentlla. What had he just done?

****

Eyes flashing, Leia threw her head up, the datapad she had been reading forgotten. "What was that?" She had felt a strange and violently angry sensation...

Winter looked at her questioningly. "What was what, Leia?"

Biting her lip in thought, Leia shook her head slowly. "Never mind."

But a frown still creased her forehead for hours afterward.

****

Obi-Wan's eyes shot open as he jolted out of his meditation trance. "Oh, no," he breathed quietly.

****

A small, wizened creature looked up to the sky. "Alive, he is. But to what purpose?"

****

Darth Vader froze, his concentration slipping from the meeting he was in to...elsewhere. The ocean that was the Force had been disturbed by something powerful. Raw, it seemed, but powerful.

Though the initial disturbance was gone, the ripples still continued. Quickly, he reached out to the Force in an effort to locate the source before the ripples disappeared. His years of experience in hunting Jedi enabled him to trace the ripples to...Tatooine?

No...Surely the Force disturbance could not be from that wretched planet...

Without a word, he strode purposefully from the room, leaving several officers staring after him in confusion.

****

"What is thy bidding, my master?" Vader inquired. He was kneeling on the floor, a three-meter hologram of Emperor Palpatine hovering before him.

"There has been a great disturbance in the Force."

"I felt it, my master. It is coming from Tatooine," he offered, though the planet's name tasted bitter on his tongue.

The Emperor seemed to be peering into Vader's soul while he spoke. "Are you quite sure of this? I wonder how you were able to pinpoint the disturbance when I could not..."

Vader paused a moment before answering carefully, "I am certain, my master."

Palpatine nodded slowly, knowing his servant was loyal and would not lie to him. "You shall go to Tatooine and discover who is behind this disturbance. Then you shall bring him to me."

"Yes, my master."

****

The moment had arrived at last.

The moment which would determine his life...

Or his death.

As he stared at Vrentlla, at her still fresh wound, he knew that _he_ would have to attempt what Mrekln had only boasted about doing.

He would fight and defeat a krayt dragon, taking away its pearl...

Or he would die.

****

"Father, I want to go."

"No, no, no, no. It's out of the question," Bail insisted, holding his hands up as if forming a barrier between him and his daughter.

Leia turned pleading eyes upon him. "Please? Winter's going!"

Bail Organa forced himself not to look into those two brown orbs. That was dangerous territory for a doting father like himself to face. "No," he told her. "It's too dangerous."

He was going to a Senate meeting, which was not an unusual occurrence—Leia had certainly been to a fair amount of those—but afterwards he was taking a little detour to help a certain rebellious party.

"I want to help." Leia paused, seemingly in thought. Her face lit up—and Bail decided immediately that he didn't like that look. "Besides," the teenager said casually, "if you don't let me help now, _with_ your supervision, then I'm likely to try to help them on my own, which is definitely not nearly as safe, now, is it?"

Bail sighed, meeting his daughter's defiant eyes. He knew when to admit defeat. "Fine."

Leia made a triumphant noise, starting to run off, but then she abruptly turned around to gather him in a big hug. "Thanks, Father!" Then she left him.

"You're welcome," Bail said quietly to the empty room.

****

After taking a calming breath, Chinnatah prepared to set off. Mrekln and some of the others had already gone, beginning crusades that would bring them glory or death. Before he could depart, however, Arr't'ni came up to him.

She said nothing, merely holding out her hand until he extended his. She dropped something into his palm and then left without a word.

Chinnatah stared down at the brightly colored stone in his hand. He had seen Arr't'ni holding it several times. Usually, she rubbed it right before she went into battle or before something important was about to happen. He had always assumed it was a good luck token.

And now she was giving away her good luck to him.

After rubbing it and tightly clenching it in his fist, Chinnatah deposited the smooth stone into his carryall pouch, walking forward, his gader stick in his hand and a new purpose in his heart.

It wasn't long before he noticed he was being followed.

Vrentlla, though she tried to be quiet, could not silence the crunching of her wide feet in the sand. The youth turned to his loyal companion and reached a gentle hand up to place it on the matted fur covering her sharp back ridges. He tried to nudge her lightly back toward the encampment.

She wouldn't give in quite so easily though, and she stood coughing and snorting defiantly as she shuffled her feet in the sand.

Chinnatah stared at her through his eyetubes, pushing her away even more firmly. As if hoping she'd understand, he thought at her, trying to enable her to see that he had to do this for himself.

As Vrentlla's soft brown eyes gazed upon him, he felt that she _did_ understand. Reluctantly obeying, the bantha trudged sorrowfully away.

Chinnatah clenched his weapon tighter.

Every step he took brought him closer to the mountains of the Jundland Wastes, and thus with every step he grew more apprehensive. Krayt dragons always seemed to be hard to find unless one _didn't_ want to run into them, but he had a gut feeling that he knew exactly where one resided.

Chinnatah tried to keep his mind off the fact that he didn't have the slightest clue as to how to go about killing a krayt dragon. Instead, he thought about the prize that would be his, the trophy that he would bring back as evidence of his encounter with one of the elusive beasts. He would take the krayt dragon's pearl from its gizzard.

The beauty of such stones, coupled with the extreme danger that had to be faced by anyone attempting to retrieve them, had caused them to be worth a fortune in the galactic market. Such a price did not matter to the Ghorfa, however. What mattered to them was the intense fighting skill that was needed to defeat one of the magnificent beasts. The krayt dragon pearl was simply the long-lasting proof, though krayt dragon bones could serve in the place of a pearl—for Tuskens believed the bones possessed magical qualities.

Uneasily, Chinnatah wondered if he _should_ have enlisted Vrentlla's help. Krayt dragons were larger than fully-grown banthas, and they were capable of more brute force than ten banthas combined. The odds would certainly be better if Vrentlla were with Chinnatah...

But the great beasts ate womp rats, banthas, and slow Tuskens. If he brought Vrentlla with him, he would probably just adding one more bantha to the casualty list.

If he were going to die, he would do it alone.

He was a loner in life with the Tuskens, and he was prepared to be a loner in death.

The cavern his feet were leading him to suddenly appeared in front of him. Jagged rocks lined the mouth of the cave, giving it the appearance of an open-mouthed predator buried partially beneath the sand, ready to swallow any unsuspecting victims whole.

Chinnatah froze for a moment in contemplation, trying to think past the sound of the raspy and ominous breathing he could hear coming from the cave. If the battle took place in the cave, then the krayt dragon would have the advantage; it surely knew the territory well. But out in the open, there was little cover offered to Chinnatah, and there would be even fewer opportunities at weapons should something happen to his gader stick. In the cavern, at least, there would be a steady supply of rocks.

Still not quite decided on his course of action, Chinnatah shifted his gaze when he saw a bit of movement to his left. A tiny arthropod called a sandjigger was nearby feeding on native Tatooinian razor moss. One of the long, armored Tatooinian cliffborer worms, which also feasted on razor moss, came up out of the sand, twitching for a moment before disappearing into the cave. After a moment, the sandjigger—looking almost curious—followed it into the cave.

Taking that as a sign, Chinnatah took a deep breath. Then, after fingering his mother's good luck stone, he began to slowly move toward the cave, trying to allow his eyes to adjust as much as possible to the dimness of the cavern before he was spotted.

When he heard the change in the krayt dragon's breathing pattern, he knew he had been seen.

He cursed inwardly. He had hoped for a little more time.

The krayt dragon inched forward to get a better glimpse at its prey, and as it did so, Chinnatah got a better glimpse of it.

Usually, one would hear a krayt dragon before seeing it, and few Tusken Raiders were stupid enough to stick around to see a krayt dragon. As a result, Chinnatah had never actually seen one before.

The beast was even worse than legend had made it out to be.

Its head was crested with five black horns. The middle horn was called its brow horn, the two surrounding the middle horn were its primary horns, and the two smaller ones below those were the motion sensing horns—it was these last two which served as the reason Chinnatah's presence had been noted so quickly. The monster's face was armored with dermal bone plates, and its forked red tongue darted in and out, testing the air.

It had a scaly, yellowish-brown body and contrasting crimson claws that matched its big reddish eyes, which were divided by black, slit-shaped pupils. The fins on its tail swished back and forth anxiously as its nostrils flared and air hissed out through its teeth.

Chinnatah quickly moved his gaze to its back. The beast's back was ridged with sharp, bony nodules and a jagged dorsal spine—anyone who chose to mount it was accepting an invitation of death. It moved even closer toward Chinnatah on its four squat legs, the five clawed toes on each foot digging into the ground and chipping the rock beneath its feet.

Squat legs or not, Chinnatah was smaller than even _one_ of those legs, and he found himself wishing for Vrentlla's aid once more.

The krayt dragon, satisfied with its assessment of the small Tusken Raider before it, finally opened its mouth in a roar, revealing rows of pointed black teeth.

Chinnatah was too busy staring down the beast's gullet to notice the tail that came crashing down upon him until it was too late.

He hit the ground in a roll, so the blow wasn't as bad as it could have been, though he was certainly hurting after the hit. His ears were ringing, his face was bleeding, and his whole body ached from tiny punctures caused by his roll over the jagged rocks and chipped bones that lay scattered about on the cavern floor. His coverings hadn't been enough to completely protect him.

The frustrated Chinnatah, though still keeping an eye on the ferocious monstrosity in front of him, stared across at his gader stick, which he had dropped on the floor before falling.

He glanced down at the red seeping through his dusty rags and felt a sudden wave of anger roll over him.

Blasted krayt dragon!

He threw his hand out towards the gader stick without thinking, and before he knew it, the weapon was in his hand.

But during this time the krayt dragon had swiped at him, and so as he was reaching for and receiving his weapon from the mysterious force that had brought it to him, he was also leaping out of the creature's way.

The paw was soon back, though, and this time, with a flash of rage, Chinnatah was ready for it, stabbing it with the spear on his gader stick.

The creature let loose a teeth-chattering cry, one more of agitation than pain.

The Tusken then picked up and threw a splintered bone at the krayt dragon's left eye.

The roar that was then released left no doubt that only one of them would be leaving the cavern alive. The beast might have been blinded in one eye, but it would now be on its guard, ready for revenge.

The krayt dragon, tired of this game, went forward, not even phased by the rocks that were thrown hastily at it. Chinnatah backed up, suddenly finding himself up against the cavern wall.

And he knew then what it had all came down to.

He was now the cornered prey, and he would fight with all his strength to win.

Gazing quickly up, he surveyed the ceiling.

Yes, it might be just about right...His gader stick would be ruined, but what did he care?

The beast advanced, and Chinnatah threw another well-aimed missile at its eye. This time, the krayt dragon moved its head aside in time so that the bone would miss its eye, and, with an almost smugness about it, the creature continued forward.

But the bone had done what Chinnatah had wanted it to do: distract the predator for a few moments.

He flung his gader stick into the air with all of his strength, sending it slashing with precision through several well-picked thin stalactites that came falling down on the vulnerable sides of the krayt dragon, just missing its dorsal plates.

The beast's bellow sounded like it contained a note of fear in it this time along with the ever-present rage, but both beings knew there was no backing out.

The krayt dragon might be wounded, but it wasn't dead yet, and this time it abandoned all efforts at providing Chinnatah with a clean death and charged at him, its head down and its lethal horns pointed right at Chinnatah's chest.


	8. The Pull of the Suns

"Obi-Wan, I wish you would go with us on our trip." Bail spoke the words calmly, but a hint of a plea was evident in his voice.

"You do not understand. I _need_ to _leave_!" the Jedi insisted.

"Leave and go where?"

But Obi-Wan was reluctant to part with the information of his destination. Bail gave him a hard gaze, and he finally caved in: "Tatooine."

This was territory Bail Organa knew how to handle. He felt a brief twinge of guilt that he _was_ able to handle it so well, but he was merely performing the job entrusted to him: to protect Leia at all costs. Since the death of his wife, Bail's only concerns were to ensure the well-being of his homeplanet and adopted daughters and help overthrow the Empire. Softly, he spoke, "You can do nothing for the boy, Master Kenobi."

As intended, the title caught Obi-Wan's attention, for Bail used it rarely. "You cannot understand," the Jedi sighed, shaking his head. He picked at the brown material of his robe, avoiding Bail's steady gaze. "The boy has been sending out strong waves in the Force that Vader is sure to feel." He was as downcast as Bail had ever seen him.

Bail stood still for a moment and averted his sad brown eyes to the ground. He shifted, his elegant Alderaanian robes rustling. Finally, he spoke in a soft voice. "Then it's back to the choice again, isn't it, my friend? You think you can still save Luke...Obi-Wan, you can either continue to protect the one that you have protected and trained for years, or you can go to the one you know nothing about."

Bail sighed, pausing for a moment before he continued speaking. "I do not wish to sound selfish, Obi-Wan, but you must think over this decision clearly. If you go to the boy, Leia will be vulnerable to the Emperor and Vader. Since her training has not been extensive enough, she will not be able to shield her presence as fully as needed. With a little more time, she would be able to do so, and _then_ you could rescue the boy." The Alderaanian placed his hands on the Jedi's shoulder, getting the man's attention. "Leia's training will make her easier for Vader to control at this critical stage. You cannot pretend you do not believe this—I have heard you mutter such concerns. Luke will be harder to train, harder to control...In the time that you can prepare Leia to survive without you nearby, they will probably not have twisted Luke enough that he could not be turned away." There was fatigue behind Bail's gentle eyes, but there was also determination. "I am afraid that Leia's hatred for the Empire will be an emotion to manipulate instead of an emotion that will pose as an obstacle...And I suspect that is my fault. I'm sorry, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan fixed his gaze on the ground this time, trying to quell the impulsive nature within him that had come from years of being around the now-deceased Qui-Gon. He needed to consider the matter more carefully. "I will meditate on this," he told the Alderaanian prince.

But in the Jedi's heart, he knew Bail was right.

The Force was guiding the future, and if Luke were supposed to fall into the Empire's clutches, then he would. There was nothing Obi-Wan could do to change that.

****

Chinnatah stared at the gleaming, oncoming horns—

—ducking aside at the last instant.

His quick movement meant that the krayt dragon's primary horns were stuck in the rock for a few precious moments before it struggled free of the wall's grasp.

Chinnatah sprinted to grab his gader stick while the creature was distracted, and he gave the weapon a quick once-over. It had certainly seen better times, but it was the best he had. He ran to the still-dazed krayt dragon, jabbing the spear on his gader stick into the creature's side.

He dodged a massive paw that swiped at him and moved as far away from the beast as he could. He paused for a moment by the wall to try and catch his breath, lightly touching Arr't'ni's smooth stone for luck.

An idea suddenly coming to his mind, he waited for the hissing and roaring krayt dragon to move toward him as he sent a quick prayer toward the gods.

With a flicker of satisfaction, Chinnatah noted that the beast had foregone the swiping technique and had turned to try to knock its opponent down with its powerful tail.

But the lithe Chinnatah stepped out of the way just in time, hugging the wall further down, and instead of smashing the Tusken's skull, the tail slammed into the wall with enough force to knock a bantha several meters back.

Parts of the ceiling began to crumble, and stalactites began to fall.

Soon, the krayt dragon, standing in the middle of the cave, was buried beneath the chaos, its death-cry ringing throughout the cavern and bringing even more of an avalanche onto its head. Creatures outside the cave scattered in all directions.

Even though he was still as flat as he could be against the wall, one of the rocks collided with Chinnatah's head, and Darkness grabbed hold of his vision.

****

"I didn't know you were coming with us, Obi-Wan," Leia said, sounding pleasantly surprised. She and Winter had just turned the corner and nearly run into him.

Weakly, Obi-Wan replied, "Neither did I."

He hadn't planned to be on the ship, but there he was. Trying to clear his head, he examined his apprentice with an almost fatherly eye. She was growing into a fine young lady. She held herself in a manner that suited royalty, and she was becoming quite skilled at diplomacy. But whenever the Jedi looked deeply enough into her eyes, he found an impatient, reckless, inquisitive soul in there, looking for an outlet. Much like her mother. Obi-Wan's mood darkened.

"Are you going to the meeting, Master Kenobi?" Winter inquired, ever the polite one. If possible, she looked even more regal than Leia. Her fair skin and fine features certainly made her seem to fit the part of princess more than Leia did. A look into _her_ eyes showed a patient, kind being that just wanted to help others. It was too bad she wasn't a Jedi.

"No, I am going to be waiting here in the ship," Obi-Wan replied. Mentally, he added to himself, _Hiding Leia's presence from Vader_. He suppressed a sigh at the thought of his former pupil. Why had he gone against Master Yoda's wishes and trained Anakin all those years ago?

A sly smile spread across Bail Organa's face. "But he shall be aiding us with our little side mission, won't you, Obi-Wan?"

"Of course," the Jedi answered, giving a tight smile. The Rebels would certainly welcome a Jedi Master, but if he played it right, they would never even realize that he was one. Sadly, there seemed to be few Force sensitives left in the galaxy. Most had been killed by Vader and Palpatine during the Jedi Purge. Would the fate of the Jedi end up being the fate of Anakin's children? Sometimes he wished that the future wasn't always in motion.

****

"Hey, Winter, I have something to show you," Leia said quietly, catching her adopted sister's eye. Obi-Wan and Bail didn't appear to notice the exchange, as they had begun a conversation of their own. "Follow me."

The two girls disappeared off to the small cabin they were sharing.

"What is it?" Winter asked.

"Well, I _do_ have something to show you," Leia gave a sheepish grin, "but that's not exactly why I invited you in here."

"I suspected as much."

"Well, just so what I said isn't a complete lie, I want you to look at this for a second." The brunette girl extended a datapad toward her light-haired friend, who took it delicately. "The average number of galaxywide deaths a year has risen more than five times that while under the Republic, not even counting the deaths from both sides of Rebel attacks," Leia explained as Winter looked over the data wide-eyed. "A lot of those are civilians. The Empire _has_ to be stopped."

Winter nodded solemnly. "I agree."

"Well, anyway," Leia said, reluctantly dragging her mind away from _that_ issue. When she got into one of her anti-Imperial moods, she could vent for hours on end about the problems of living under an Empire. The fact that most fifteen-year old girls would be talking about boys rather than governments seemed to never occur to her. "Do you know what's wrong with Obi-Wan?"

Winter hesitated. "I am not positive, but I think it might have something to do with whatever is making him not want to come with us on this mission."

"What?" Leia seemed shocked. "He didn't want to come?"

The other girl shook her head. "Not if I read him right...Something is trying to pull him away—or, perhaps, he _wants_ something to pull him away."

Leia frowned, mulling over the possibilities. What could it be?

****

"Awaken," a deep voice came to him distantly. The words meant nothing to him, but he could feel the urgency behind them.

He tried to ignore the voice; he was fine as he was.

The voice quit, and this time he attempted to disappear into complete oblivion, but he was stopped short when emotions—strangely not his own—began tugging at him, trying simultaneously to both coax him and force him into coming out.

He pushed back at the contradictory force that was pressuring him, seeing no reason _not_ to retreat into the blackness.

But the insistence of whatever it was that was tugging at him finally annoyed him enough that he broke through the barrier holding him back just so he could stop the force—

—and he gasped as his senses seemed to explode, his body going into overload.

His head pounded as if a thousand banthas were ramming into his skull; his limbs ached as they never had before; every breath was made with only an intense effort; and he felt a hundred different pains in a hundred different parts of his body that he had never known existed.

He remained motionless, with the exception of his minutely rising and falling chest, trying to hold the pain at bay and figure out where he was and what had happened.

His eyes didn't seem to want to focus, but as he searched his mind for the reason of his pain and found the answer, suddenly everything became much sharper. Including the pain.

Though his body felt as if a million fires were dancing across it, when Chinnatah first saw a dark humanoid figure standing before him, he instantly tried to flee the cave. But he was still pinned beneath some rocks, so his attempted flight was in vain. He struggled with the stones, but he finally had to stop because the effort exhausted him.

Suddenly, the weight from the rocks disappeared. In awe despite his intense pain, Chinnatah watched the rocks float away. He turned his eyetubes back to the tall form before him, trying again to back away, but unable to move because of the pain.

Chinnatah finally resigned himself to whatever fate awaited him, wondering, in the back of his mind, what that strange hollow noise echoing throughout the cavern was.

****

Darth Vader stared down at the small Tusken Raider before him. The Raider's rags were stained with blood, and he didn't need to be able to reach out to the Force to know that the child must be in agony.

At least, this was a younger Tusken, probably a child..._That_ much Vader knew. He was uncertain of the Raider's exact age. During his time on Tatooine, he had not studied Sand People too closely; the creatures were dangerous, that much he had known. And, as if he hadn't _heard_ enough about the viciousness of the Tuskens while enslaved, he'd learned the painful lesson personally years later...

With the death of his mother.

Staring down at the cowering Tusken before him, Darth Vader felt his mood darken. Shmi Skywalker had been killed by the merciless nomads; it was only fitting that he should destroy another of their kind now...Even if Shmi's death had happened in another life.

...But even as such murderous thoughts came to his mind, he knew he couldn't.

He had finally discovered the source of the strange ripples in the Force; if anything, he had to keep the young one alive long enough to escort back to the Emperor and let _him_ decide what to do with the creature.

Darth Vader certainly wasn't appreciating the irony in what he was about do: heal a Tusken Raider. Of course, had he known the true irony in the situation, he might have been even surlier.

He frowned beneath his mask as he regarded the youth. He hadn't known the Sand People were capable of being Force-sensitive, much less sensitive in the magnitude which this one was.

Come to think of it, this Tusken Raider didn't seem to have the same presence in the Force as the other Tuskens. This Raider's mind was indeed more alien than the average human's, but it only felt remotely like the minds of Sand People...It was at a sort of confusing middle.

The Dark Lord of the Sith moved slowly forward, noticing that the Raider had ceased cowering and now seemed ready to fight.

Of course, such was to be expected; after all, the Tusken youth appeared to have taken down a krayt dragon singlehandedly. The knowledge of such an act raised Vader's opinion of the Raider a few notches.

The Sith Lord moved closer.

****

As the sable humanoid came toward him, Chinnatah garnered what remained of his strength. Fighting this black monster would probably kill him where the krayt dragon had failed, but if he were to meet such a fate anyway, it might as well be on his own terms.

Chinnatah inconspicuously felt with his right hand for a weapon and finally found a rock that would fit into his palm. Taking a painful breath, he threw the stone with all of his might toward an area in the humanoid's neck that looked as if it _might_ be vulnerable.

But the projectile stopped before it even came close to its target, hovering in midair for a few moments before dropping onto the ground.

Chinnatah snuck a hasty glance at the entrance; there didn't seem to be anything blocking the way, though it appeared as if a sandstorm were starting to brew outside.

Knowing he was about to do something he would regret later, he sprang to his feet—trying to ignore his protesting legs—dodged the tall figure in front of him, and made for the "doorway," only to find himself suddenly held in place and then suspended into midair.

Angered that his last breaths of life would be due to _this_ fiend, Chinnatah began struggling against the invisible hands that held him in place, feeling a few wisps of fear shoot through his body. Pushing back the fear with his anger, Chinnatah somehow took hold of that elusive power that he'd touched a few times and, with a flicker of thought to Mrekln, _pushed_, finding himself dropping to the ground.

****

Darth Vader stopped the Raider's rock in midair, somewhat amused. He let it drop to the ground. He would be interested in what the creature would try next.

This time, the youth threw a gaze at the entrance, quickly bringing his eyetubes back toward the Sith Lord. But Vader already knew what he had in mind, and he let the Tusken go only a few feet before being raised into the air. He watched the being's pitiful efforts to struggle with humor. Such efforts could not beat Vader's hold on the Dark Side of the Force.

And then suddenly, Vader found himself backing up a few feet, releasing his Force grip on the Raider as the Dark Side suddenly worked against him. He stood motionlessly, blinking beneath his mask, for a few moments.

What in space had the youth done?

He turned his attention back to the Tusken, half expecting the creature to have already escaped from the cavern, but apparently the last dregs of strength the youth had possessed were depleted. The Tusken Raider lay crumpled on the ground, his legs no longer willing to support any weight and his mind barely staying conscious.

The sandstorm outside began to rage, howling through the nooks and crannies in the rocks. Darth Vader gazed down at the barely-breathing youth.

There was no way the Imperial shuttle waiting outside the cave would be able to take off...and no way the Tusken would be able to survive outside in such weather.

Darth Vader began to say something, but then he remembered he would be talking to a Tusken Raider, a member of a species he barely considered to be sentient, and certainly not one who would be likely to understand him.

His mood even darker, the Sith Lord advanced toward the prostrate Tusken youth. This time, there was not even the shade of an attempt made by the Raider to struggle.

Vader levitated the young Tusken into the air. The Dark Side of the Force was not nearly as adept at healing as the Light Side, something which Vader was loath to admit, but he would make do with the Dark Side. Physical touch always seemed to make it easier when one Force-user tried to heal another, so Vader placed a hand on the youth's chest.

It would be difficult to place the suddenly alert youth in a healing trance without permission, Vader reflected, so he projected a progression of images into the Tusken's mind concerning the results of a healing trance.

Darth Vader could still feel the Tusken Raider's tension, but it was eased somewhat by his images.

It was, Vader considered, probably as much as he was going to get.

He slowly eased the youth into the trance and then lightly lowered him to the ground.

He resisted the urge to sigh.


	9. Guidance for the Suns

"You did wonderful, Leia," Bail complimented his daughter.

"Thank you, Father," she smiled. Palpatine had seemed rather preoccupied at the Senate meeting, so at least she hadn't had to worry about his evil and perceptive eyes staring at her. She shivered. That was an experience she could never get used to, though she _was_ becoming accustomed to the political scene.

"How is your, ah, memory, Winter?" the male Organa inquired somewhat hesitantly.

"As always," Winter replied with a smile. She still recalled every word she'd ever heard.

Bail's gaze flicked around for a moment, and he seemed almost nervous. Leia wondered if he were looking for Obi-Wan...The Jedi was probably still hiding in the back of the ship. She was about to state where she thought Obi-Wan was when her father began talking to Winter.

"Ah, Winter," the man trained his eyes on hers, "I was wondering if you might do something for me. The, ah, Rebellion is in need of someone with your...expertise..."

So, this was it. Leia had known that her friend and sister would be taken away from her eventually for such a purpose, and it seemed that time had finally come. She would still see her every now and then, she knew, but she would have one less person to talk to in most of her times of need. For the princess of the Royal House of Alderaan, that was one person too many to lose. She couldn't talk to her father about just anything, and, besides, he was always busy. As for Obi-Wan...

...He was like her second father, but he often seemed distant, looking toward the horizon. It was as if something away from Alderaan were screaming for his attention, but he could not go to it.

When she did confide in Obi-Wan, he always returned a constant stream of advice, a stream which she usually didn't want to hear. When she confessed her fears, he warned her that fear was of the Dark Side. When she mentioned her frustration at something, he told her that anger and aggression would also lead down the dark path. When she asked explicitly for advice, she was instructed to look deep within herself, for she would find the answer there.

At least Winter was straightforward.

Now, it was Leia's turn to give advice. The princess rested a hand on her friend's arm, receiving a startled look in return. "Please, go, Winter. They need you."

"Thank you, princess," Winter said softly. She knew how much the advice cost Leia.

Though he was hesitant to break the moment between his two adopted daughters, the Prince of Alderaan knew he needed to do so. "You will be known to them only as Targeter...For security purposes."

Winter nodded.

A new life had begun for both her and Leia. Winter would go on to aid the Rebellion more directly, while Bail, with the willing Mon Mothma's help, would groom Leia toward becoming a Senator—which would help with the legal fight against the Emperor's evil whims. Winter had the feeling that Leia would be an Imperial Senator very soon, probably the youngest in galactic history; Winter could easily see Leia beating Mon Mothma's record. And when Leia did join the Imperial Senate, Winter knew she would constantly challenge Emperor Palpatine's new Imperial policies, acting as a voice of eternal dissent. Winter prayed that Leia would try to stay out of highly dangerous situations, but she knew even as she did so how unlikely that would be. Leia had a higher purpose, one that she would be sure to fulfill.

****

A short, elderly creature stood prodding the spongy ground on a swampy planet with his gimer stick. The Force was constantly changing circumstances and altering the available choices...

He sent out a brief tendril of reassurance to his torn pupil. His pupil's sudden change was barely noticeable, but to someone as knowledgeable of the Force as Yoda was, it was readily apparent. Fortunately, Obi-Wan was beginning to calm down and become more confident about his decision.

Yoda shook his head thoughtfully. He had been certain that the Force did not mean for him specifically to train the girl, that she was supposed to be the catalyst for something...But now he was not so sure.

Were he and Obi-Wan misunderstanding these proddings from the Force?

It was time, Yoda realized, he did some extensive meditation of his own.

****

Darth Vader glanced over at the large krayt dragon tail that was sticking out from under the large pile of rocks, still impressed that the Tusken had managed to kill the enormous beast. It was time for him to pull the youth out from the trance; the Tusken Raider wasn't fully healed, but the Emperor would grow more impatient the longer he had to wait for his prize.

And besides, he was more than a little curious about how such a creature could be filled with such great Force potential.

****

Chinnatah stared up at the cavern ceiling for a few moments after he regained consciousness, letting the events of the day slowly wash over him.

He'd defeated a krayt dragon, only to have another obstacle come into his path...

But that obstacle hadn't tried to kill him. It hadn't even served as a real obstacle. Instead, it had helped heal him...Somehow...

Of course, he was not fully healed. He still ached in a dozen places, but the pain was not nearly as overpowering as it had been.

Wincing, he began to sit up, and he noticed the black figure watching him.

Slowly, Chinnatah got to his feet, casting his glance about to see if he could find his gader stick, but the effort was made in vain; the beaten-up weapon was buried somewhere beneath the rubble.

...The rubble!

Quickly, he went to the rubble where the dragon was buried. He pushed toward the dragon's middle as swiftly as his aching body would allow and began throwing rocks aside.

Quizzical, the black figure asked something, but Chinnatah couldn't understand the words. Finally, an image was planted into the young Tusken's mind: the krayt dragon, alive, then the krayt dragon dead, then an image of Chinnatah, and then the krayt dragon alive again.

The youth paused, making a Tusken hand gesture that signified "no." He didn't quite understand what the dark man believed was happening. He thought about an image of his own and tried to push it over toward the ominous sable figure: a beautiful, polished stone being retrieved from the beast's gizzard and held in the Tusken's hand. He was startled when he felt the other receive the image.

****

Darth Vader nodded, feeling somewhat foolish. The youth wanted the krayt dragon pearl. And he, Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, was going to help the Tusken Raider get it.

It was not a kind gesture on his part; he simply knew that he needed to earn the creature's trust if he were going to be able to get the youth even _near_ the waiting Imperial shuttle. He could always try mind control, but the Tusken's mind patterns were different from humans, and he wasn't certain how successful he would be. He could always knock out the Tusken, but it was best that he try to build up some trust.

Vader used the Force to remove some of the rocks off the dead body, finally taking out his lightsaber to slash open the krayt dragon and allow the Tusken access to the beast's innards.

There the pearl was, gleaming in the dim light given off by his red lightsaber. Even Darth Vader had to admit it was a unique specimen.

Almost curiously, he watched the youth's reaction.

****

Chinnatah removed the stone from the krayt dragon's gizzard, holding it in his hand for a moment to look at it before clenching it tightly in his fist and depositing it into his carryall pouch. He brushed his fingers briefly against Arr't'ni's stone while his hand was in the pouch.

At last, he'd won.

He felt relief trickle through his system. He would finally be considered an adult.

He had faced the most difficult rite of passage and passed! Joy began to spread throughout his body, causing him to forget the pain momentarily. He could not help but think about the fact that Mrekln would be jealous.

Then Chinnatah frowned as the dark man began placing a barrage of images into his mind. First, a strange-looking ship that reminded him of the birds that nested in the canyon nooks, then Chinnatah himself walking into the ship, then the stars (so close he could almost touch them!), then himself at the helm of a ship, then himself on a planet covered in buildings, and finally himself with all the water he could drink...

Chinnatah felt the longing within himself to get away from Tatooine and go beyond its twin suns grow...

But had he gone so far on Tatooine, only to turn and take an entirely different path?

He thought to Vrentlla; he had been doing this as much for her as himself. She was his one true companion. She had never doubted him.

And what about his mother?

She had been very understanding, but they were of two different kinds. He wasn't meant for the Tusken life, and both of them knew it.

Chinnatah lifted his chin. He could not help it; he wanted a moment of selfishness. He projected an image of himself participating in the ceremony that would finally truly unify him with Vrentlla. He also projected an image of the ritual in which he would be given a gaderffii and the clothing of an adult and allowed, in the privacy of a tent, to shed his uli-ah clothing. He thought he should be allowed that much.

A feeling of reluctant agreement from the dark man entered his mind as Chinnatah projected these images, but when he projected the image of Vrentlla's entering the ship with him, the dark man sent him what was definitely a negative feeling.

Chinnatah received an image in his mind, this time that of the bantha looking very out of place on the planet covered in buildings.

Sadly, Chinnatah knew he had to agree. Vrentlla's place was in the desert. His was not.

****

A few hours later, garbed in adult male Tusken attire and bonded to Vrentlla, whom he could truly call his own mount only now that he was to leave her, Chinnatah stood in front of Arr't'ni. Vrentlla was standing at a respectful distance away from Chinnatah, while the dark man was waiting in the ship.

Chinnatah couldn't quite fathom why he was so willing to go with the dark man. Everything he'd ever known was on Tatooine.

And yet, what _had_ he known? Rejection, both by himself and others. He had rejected much of the Tusken culture, and many belonging to the Tusken culture had rejected him in turn. He had always wanted something more...And now that opportunity had been set before him.

How could he turn it down?

He just stood there for a few moments, his eyetubes meeting with his mother's. Arr't'ni said nothing, waiting for him to make the first move.

At last he did, reaching into a pouch at his side and removing from it the object which had just given him what he'd been wanting for so long: equality and responsibility.

Now, he was going to give all that up for the unknown. And since he was doing so, it didn't feel right to him to keep the object that had given him what he was now rejecting. He held the krayt dragon pearl out for Arr't'ni to take.

She held out her hand, but instead of taking the precious stone, she pushed his hand away. She stared at him. Somehow, she knew he was leaving, forsaking their tribe and clan, never to be welcomed by the Ghorfa again.

Clenching and then pocketing the krayt dragon pearl, Chinnatah turned away, walking toward the shuttle and not looking back.

Before he was able to reach his destination, however, Chinnatah was halted by a large being in his path: Vrentlla, snorting and stamping her feet.

She gazed forlornly at him, and for once she didn't seem to understand—she couldn't simply accept what was happening. She nudged him gently with her nose, her soft brown eyes looking as sorrowful as he had ever seen them. He could practically see the questions in her eyes: _What are you doing? Where are you going? Are you taking me with you?_

Chinnatah clenched his fists, staring through his eyetubes at the loyal beast. Suddenly, he threw his arms around her large, furry chest, his rag-covered face pressed tightly against her. He stroked her hair, trying to soothe her.

He tried to make her understand without words. He _had_ to go. He belonged in a different life. He pulled back, looking her in the eyes. Didn't she understand? Couldn't she? Wouldn't she just accept that he had to go?

He set his gaderffii stick on the ground—it was an offering to his faithful companion and a rejection of his life as a Tusken. He would need it no more.

The bantha opened her mouth and let out a pained groan, the cry carrying forlornly through the desert, like that of a child suddenly left all alone. She couldn't accept what she didn't understand. He was leaving her. What would she do without him? She would _die_!

But Chinnatah could not comprehend why the bantha did not understand. He looked into those sorrowful brown eyes one last time, begging for acceptance from her that he for once could not receive, and then he turned around and sprinted off with the image of those troubled orbs burning into his mind. It was a broken bantha that he left behind him.

Unseen, Mrekln, who still hadn't completed his rite of passage, stared at Chinnatah's small form from atop of a cliff, wishing his rival good riddance. Chinnatah didn't belong with the Tusken Raiders—had never belonged with them. All in the clan knew it.

The Tatooinian suns slowly sank, splashing angry colors on the sky that soon began to fade into darkness.

****

Darth Vader sent the Tusken Raider a questioning probe. The winded youth didn't respond; he just walked slump-shouldered into the ship.

The Sith Lord did not inquire any further. That the Tusken was coming peacefully was still something of a shock to him. Usually, the Sand People only used primitive technology, never going so far as to even enter a true ship, much less with someone who wasn't a member of a Tusken clan.

While keeping an eye on his passenger, Vader piloted the shuttle up to the orbiting Super Star Destroyer, declining the offer of a welcoming crew. He left explicit instructions that he wanted to go straight to his quarters and that the corridors and hangar were to be cleared of all life forms. After he was settled into his quarters, the _Executor _was to jump into hyperspace.

Once on board the Sith Lord's flagship, the Tusken followed Vader to his quarters very quietly—almost eerily so. The Sith Lord sent the all-clear to an officer, and then he turned to the youth.

"We're going to have to change your clothes," Vader said, almost as if to fill the silence. He knew the Tusken Raider couldn't understand him. He could practically feel the other frown, so he sent a mental image through the Force of the youth slowly unwrapping rags.

The youth started violently, backing up several steps and crouching into attack position. A feeling of flat refusal was sent to Darth Vader.

The Sith Lord stood still for a few moments, his blood boiling at the youth's obstinacy. Finally, the Tusken gestured at Vader's appearance, and the Sith's temper slowly began to cool.

Of course. Why should the youth do something that Vader would not?

The Sith Lord walked toward the door to his meditation chambers, motioning for the child to follow.

The Tusken Raider didn't move for a moment, seeming almost quizzical. Then the significance of the gesture seemed to sink in, and the youth walked forward cautiously.

Of course. Gestures of the Sand People were different from those of humans. Vader shook his head minutely before walking into his meditation chambers.

****

Chinnatah stared at the walls around him. These places were all so strange, so very metallic...so..._sandless_.

Everything was so different from Tatooine...It was so cold and dim, and there was no sand to be seen.

The Tusken Raider forced his thoughts back to the dark man. He still could not quite believe that the dark man had had the audacity to ask him to remove his rags. The youth thought about the matter for a moment. Humans usually went without rags covering their faces, so perhaps that meant this figure was a human.

...But he didn't seem to be human. He had his face and body covered, and it looked as if there were something mechanical on his chest.

Was he a machine? Was Chinnatah trusting his life to a machine?

As he entered the room with the dark man, the air suddenly seemed hard to breathe. Chinnatah began to panic, but he felt a flicker of reassurance from the black form. He took a deep breath, realizing that the air seemed very pure...

The dark man sat down in a chair, pressing a button which caused a machine to come down. A few moments later, the dark man's helmet was removed.

Chinnatah watched curiously.

****

Darth Vader hesitated. There was no reason for him to go on any further. He could force the youth to remove the rags if he needed to. But something still prodded him to take off the mask. He tried to push back the urge; this was a primitive creature that would be unable to appreciate the significance of Vader's removing his mask.

But Vader needed to build the creature's trust. Even primitive species always seemed to have major issues with _trust_.

Grasping at the Force as he scowled beneath his mask, Vader finally removed the dark helmet, revealing pale, scarred skin that had not seen the sun in years. On impulse, he sent an image of what he had once looked like to the youth.

****

Chinnatah gasped. The difference between the image and the figure in front of him was vast. What had happened to change him so? Perhaps he would know one day...

The dark man had taken the first step. Now, Chinnatah knew it was his turn.

****

Darth Vader, who always enjoyed the rare glimpses of color he received visually when he removed his mask, watched as the youth reluctantly began unraveling his rags, finally revealing a face as pale as his own, one in which strangely familiar crystal blue eyes were set. The child had long, scraggly, greasy brown hair with just a hint of blond in it.

The boy was human, Vader realized.

He remembered the appearance of the faces of those he had murdered long ago, faces he had uncovered after he had killed them, driven to do so by his morbid curiosity.

This was not the face of a Tusken Raider.

Suddenly, Vader felt some of his inhibitions disappear. This was something he'd be better able to handle.

****

Chinnatah quivered, and it wasn't just from the cold. He had taken such a leap with the removal of the rags covering his face, and he felt naked. He was truly leaving the Tusken world behind.

He received an image from the dark man of himself standing beneath falling water, of himself standing in different clothes, and of himself with shorter hair.

He looked down to the ground for a moment. It wasn't too late. He could still go back to Tatooine. The warm suns would still have him, even if his tribe would not. The twin suns, at least, would rise for him again.

But what was there for Chinnatah? He would be exiled by his tribe, and his mother would never forgive him for leaving.

He brought his gaze sharply up, a new fire in his sapphire eyes. He would face whatever the dark man could throw at him.

****

It had taken Vader several tries to explain to the boy what he was supposed to do. He had seemed scared of the shower head at first, and then, after he had gotten over his fear, he had kept attempting to go under the water with his Tusken clothes still on. At last, trying to quell the faint and almost alien feelings of embarrassment caused by some of the images he'd had to produce for the boy to comprehend his intentions, Vader managed to convince the boy to bathe and change into the black tunic and pants he'd had tailored to his size before they'd even begun the refresher ordeal.

Hours later, the youth was sitting in a chair, and Vader was holding a pair of scissors out. It would be much better to have a professional cut the boy's hair, but Vader wanted as few people as possible to know about the former Tusken until his master had seen him. And so the Sith Lord personally took the cutting utensils to the boy's no longer matted, but still very lengthy, hair, and he shaped it into a passable version of a military cut.

He surveyed his work with something akin to pride before trying to take in the whole image.

The haircut was a major improvement, that was for certain, but Vader could not help but feel that the boy's pasty skin was very out of place. As if that alone weren't enough, it reminded him too much of his own pale face. With Force-detailed instructions, Darth Vader had the youth put on a skin solution that would make him look a little less...dead.

Now, Vader decided wearily, he would try to teach the boy some Basic.

"Hair," he said, holding up a few long strands of hair in his gloves.

The youth made a hand gesture, and Vader's respirator echoed in the silence.

After a few moments, Vader tried again, repeating the word and shaking the hair.

Again, the same hand gesture.

Finally, somewhat frustrated, Vader reached out to the Force for aid in communication.

"Do you understand me?" he asked, using the Force to try to amplify their connection.

The hand gesture.

Ah, the difference in species once more, Vader mulled, deciding to try a different approach. "If you understand me, move your head up and down."

There was some hesitation this time, but finally the boy's head slowly nodded.

Darth Vader felt the strange sensation of a smile tugging at his lips. The Force would certainly make this whole process a lot easier.


	10. Father and Sun

The boy somehow managed to maintain a pretty good grasp of Basic, even if he refused to speak it. Darth Vader wondered if the boy were incapable of talking, or if the Tusken life had simply been too much for him.

Still, at least such meant he wouldn't say anything insolent to the Emperor...

If the Emperor decided to keep him alive.

Palpatine was unpredictable when it came to matters of life and death. Whenever Darth Vader brought to him—or Palpatine discovered on his own—a powerful and untrained Force sensitive, the Emperor would do one of three things, and, for the life of him, Vader could never tell which one of the three it was going to be.

The Emperor would either demand that the Force-user be killed (as had happened with many unfortunate prospects), be turned into one of his hands (as had happened with the human Mara Jade), or be taken and trained by Vader (as had happened with the Firrerreos Rillao and Hethrir).

Usually, Palpatine's decisions were instantaneous, as if the Dark Side provided him the exact answer he needed at the exact moment he needed it. This time, however, the Emperor peered at the youth for a long time, as if he had mixed feelings about what the Force were telling him.

"Does he have a name?" Palpatine asked at last.

"If he does, my master, he has not told me...He was raised by Tusken Raiders, and, though he now seems to have a fairly good grasp of Basic, he still will not speak." Vader paused for a moment before continuing. "It is to be noted, my master, that I have not even heard him speak the Tusken language." Darth Vader was down on one knee, the youth having copied him rather admirably.

"You may train this one, Lord Vader...However, I would prefer you keep him on Coruscant...If you insist upon giving him piloting lessons," the Emperor's eyes glinted, as he knew Vader far too well, "at least keep him fairly close to Coruscant's atmosphere. I wish to keep a close eye on his progress..." His eyes hardened. "You shall not shirk your duties entirely, however...In fact, I believe I might be able to provide him with some companionship, should he prove unruly when left alone." At this statement, Palpatine let out an eerie cackle. "How old is he?"

Darth Vader inclined his head toward the still youth, who flashed seven images of bantha cubs being born and then an eighth in which the whole process did not occur. Though Vader hid his confusion from his master, he found himself wondering what in space the boy was referencing.

Then a memory sparked of something that he had heard long ago about banthas...

They had cubs around...every two years? So the boy was...fifteen?

"Fifteen Galactic Standard Years of age, I believe, my master," the helmet-clad Sith Lord replied.

"Good," the black-cloaked being whispered.

****

Chinnatah followed Darth Vader out into the endless corridors of the Imperial Palace and then into Vader's large quarters. Once they were inside, the dark man turned to him. "What is it?"

Chinnatah just looked at him as he sat down on the couch. Had he been raised as a human, he would have given Darth Vader a sour look. But Tusken Raiders, whose faces were always covered in rags, never used facial expressions.

"You shall obey the Emperor, young one."

As usual, Chinnatah didn't reply. When he felt Vader press against his mind, seeking a reply, he projected an image into the other's head.

He could sense the brief, startled flicker of what almost seemed to be joy from the dark man before it was quelled.

"So, you want to learn more about machines. Follow me."

****

Vader had made it known many times that his own section of the hangar bay was to be blocked off. He preferred it that way, as it meant he could work on machines without passersby gawking at him. The only technicians in his section tended to be droids, and that was how he preferred it. If there was something wrong which a droid couldn't handle, he could usually fix the problem himself.

"This is a hydrospanner," Vader explained, twisting the noted object around in his hands. He was showing the youth the various tools of a mechanic as he called out their names. He could sense the boy's impatience warring with his eagerness to learn, and he finally decided to try to bring him down a few notches.

"Find out what is wrong with this," the Sith Lord gestured to a TIE fighter he had been neglecting, "and fix it."

Excited at the opportunity to do something useful, the boy got to work.

Vader expected that he would soon be at a loss; after all, he had grown up in a Tusken environment, where good mechanical skills usually consisted of being able to repair projectile rifles. By all rights, the boy should have been lost without instructions.

And so he waited, watching the youth fiddle with this and mess with that and wondering when his assistance was going to be required.

Finally, the boy stilled, looking at Vader with those familiar blue eyes...

Feeling almost as if a rug had been yanked out from under him, the Sith Lord reached out to the Force and flicked the various switches to turn the TIE on...

Instead of the cough he had expected to hear, he heard the familiar purr of machinery warming up. Incredulously, Vader stared through his helmet at the boy, wondering if he were imagining the hint of satisfaction that seemed to be barely perceptible on the youth's face.

It was a fluke, Vader told himself. It had to be.

After surveying the boy through his mask, he instructed, "Follow me," and he walked to a communications console with the child tagging along behind him. He flipped a switch. "Is the simulation center in use for training sessions?" he queried.

"No, milord," came the slightly shaky reply.

"Clear all occupants. I am on my way."

"Yes, Lord Vader."

The Sith Lord looked to the inquisitive boy. "Come."

When at last the pair reached the simulation center, it was deserted, as had been requested. Darth Vader motioned the youth toward one of the machines, which was fashioned in the manner of a TIE cockpit, and he instructed, "Put on the helmet." So there would not be any confusion, Vader also gestured toward the protective helmet. If the boy were ever going to fly a real starfighter, he would have to become accustomed to the headgear.

The youth was eager, quickly donning the helmet with the help of an instructive mental image from Vader and then hopping into the seat when instructed. He looked inquisitively toward Vader for directions. Vader provided him with only a few words, and then the boy got right to work, finding out by trial-and-error. Not that there was that much error—the boy seemed to have Vader's gift with machines.

Beneath his helmet, the Sith Lord frowned. What was that supposed to mean? The boy was talented with machines without much need of guidance, it was true, but why had he compared it to his own skill?

Attempting to clear such extraneous thoughts from his head, Vader tried to focus on the youth, noticing that he had already shot down an impressive amount of Rebel fighters. The machine moaned with simulated pressure as the former Tusken Raider took it through an impressive array of moves that pushed his simulated craft to its limits.

Finally, the simulation was over, the mission accomplished.

"I see I should have set it to a higher level," the Sith Lord said, a hint of amusement in his voice. He toggled with the controls and then stood back. "Now, try it."

His eyes locked on the screen, the boy did as he was told, using the TIE fighter's maneuverability against the high shielding of the simulated X-wings. He bit his lip in concentration, perspiration beading on his forehead.

Darth Vader hid a dark smile under his mask. He could feel the youth subconsciously reaching out to the Force, trying to use its power to help him foresee his opponent's moves. But such an attempt was best in real combat situations, for it was impossible to sense the future actions of enemies in simulated combat.

Finally, the frustrated boy sat back in his chair, the words "Mission Failed" flashing across the screen.

"Do not worry, young one," Vader said. "I did not expect you to win on such a high level with only the limited training you received. In time, however, you will be great."

The youth looked at him with an expression that could have curdled bantha milk. It was obvious to Vader that he was impatient, which, in a way, was beneficial to Vader, as he might be able to use it to his advantage. Impatience could just as easily go against him, however...

"You have proved your skill at understanding language and space combat, but there is one more area I wish to test your skill in."

The boy stared at him.

****

One more area? What else could there be?

This dark man had thrown so many new things at Chinnatah already, and he was exhausted and hungry.

But he would not back down. He raised his chin and sent a questioning probe into the other's mind. He didn't really understand how this image projection thing worked. Was it because the dark man had some strange powers that allowed him to sift through Chinnatah's mind? Or could it be that Chinnatah had some strange power of his own?

Though he had a weird suspicion of the latter, his common sense told him that surely something had to be amiss.

The dark man noted, "We will return to my quarters."

Making the Tusken hand signal of agreement—Chinnatah still could not get used to the strange gestures Vader used—he followed the dark man to his quarters.

"You do not understand how we are able to speak to each other in our minds," Vader noted. "The reason is the Force." After receiving a questioning tingle from Chinnatah, Vader continued, "The Force is an energy field that surrounds us, a power certain beings can control with the proper training...You are one of those rare few who can do so."

Chinnatah stared at him. _He_ was someone special? _He _who had lived on the verge of becoming an outcast for his entire life?

"I can teach you how to wield that power, young one," Vader said softly.

The former Tusken continued to stare at him.

****

Darth Vader could see that the youth did not believe him. He reached out to the Force and levitated a datapad above the table it had been sitting on. He reached out to the boy mentally, trying to guide his Force sense toward the datapad. He could sense the other's confusion, but at last the Tusken tried 6to follow the Sith Lord's guidance.

The youth's Force-hold on the datapad was rather shaky at first, but at last he seemed to be making some progress. Vader could tell that he was putting all of his concentration into the task, for beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and the hand he held out was quivering.

"That is enough for today," Vader said at last. The datapad lowered to the ground. "We shall retrieve a meal for you. Then you shall rest."

The youth stared at Vader, who wondered absentmindedly if the boy were trying to read his body language. Vader requested that a droid bring a meal to his quarters, and when the food was finally placed before the youth, the Tusken simply stared at it.

Vader felt Impatience beginning to sneak up on him. Then he remembered that the range of food that Tusken Raiders ate on Tatooine was not likely to be very large. Advanced eating utensils wouldn't exactly be widely used either.

Vader began broadcasting a mental image of the adolescent's using eating utensils to cut the nerf steak and place it in his mouth. Tentatively, the youth awkwardly mimicked the mental image, looking surprised at the distinctive taste of the steak. Of course—the boy was probably accustomed to much more bland food, such as Tatooine's hubba gourd.

The Sith Lord felt a strange sense of amusement. One of the most powerful men in the galaxy was teaching a savage how to properly eat a steak. Journalists would have had a field day with such a story...At least, journalists who didn't value their lives.

After giving further instruction on how to eat the rest of the food, Vader simply watched the Tusken eat. He felt a strange feeling vaguely reminiscent of pleasure at the sight of the youth's obvious enjoyment, but he instantly pushed away the sensation. Why was he being so patient with this youth? Why had he not simply killed him back on Tatooine?

Troubled by his thoughts, Vader cleared his mind and tried to observe the youth while remaining emotionless. When the Tusken had finished, Vader stated loudly, "You may rest now."

****

A few minutes later, Chinnatah was resting in a human "bed." There was only time enough to wonder about the strange turn his life had taken before his fatigued body drug his mind into unconsciousness.


	11. Fear and the Suns

It had been one week since he had left Tatooine.

Chinnatah was still glad of the change. While Vader continued pushing him to his limits, the Sith Lord never tried to force him to do something he absolutely did not want to do, as the Tuskens had tried to do. He had the feeling that might one day change, but he was willing to enjoy the slice of freedom for as long as it lasted.

Other than when he had to send images, Chinnatah was rarely required to touch the strange energy field Vader had spoken of. He suspected that the Sith Lord wanted him to become more familiar with his new life before trying to jump _that_ particular chasm, which was fine with him, as he was always finding new things to learn.

Still, he felt a glimmer of curiosity toward the mysterious force. How did it work? What were the different ways to use it? Did he even really want to find out?

He padded quietly toward Vader's practice room as only Tusken Raiders could, but he somehow sensed that the dark man didn't need to hear him to know he was coming. The energy field must be very powerful indeed...

Chinnatah entered the practice room and stood still in the doorway, gazing in front of him.

Vader was standing in one place while silently turning a sleek, shiny metal object over in his gloved hands. He seemed to almost revere the object, though Chinnatah did not know what it was.

At last, the dark man began to talk. "This is called a lightsaber, and it is a very important weapon to the Sith. Its blade slices through nearly anything, except for the blade of another lightsaber." To emphasize his point, Darth Vader flicked its switch, and a long red beam of energy protruded from the handle. The lightsaber hummed, the noise serving as a quiet testament to its power.

The youth stared at the saber, feeling as if an inevitable part of his life had finally slid into place.

****

Obi-Wan stared into space, startled to suddenly find his index finger lightly stroking his lightsaber. A frown creased his brow.

He was worried again, which made it harder to split his concentration. He had been following Leia's presence, hiding her light in the Force from Vader and Palpatine once again, when suddenly concern for the well-being of her twin had jumped into his mind.

Where _was_ Luke? Had Vader already twisted him? If so, why did he rarely feel any ripples from the Force?

The boy was strong, that Obi-Wan knew. And as much as Obi-Wan hated to admit it, Luke possessed a lot more Force potential than Obi-Wan and Leia did.

Should Vader succeed in thoroughly wiping the boy's mind of good—which, Obi-Wan reflected with a grimace, probably wouldn't be that much of a challenge since Luke had been raised by Tusken Raiders—then there would not be much hope for the Jedi's rise. Leia, while skilled in combat, was not meant for the battlefield. And Obi-Wan did not think he could face Anakin—no, _Vader_—again. Certainly, he didn't think he could defeat the Sith Lord.

Obi-Wan sighed, trying to let the Force come over him and quell his ever-present doubts.

****

Leia felt her breath catch in her throat. She was about to be introduced to the Emperor. Strangely, his second-in-command was not with him, but she counted that as a blessing. Meeting both of them at the same time might prove to be a little too much for her to handle.

"My daughter, Princess Leia Organa," Bail offered.

Palpatine's evil yellow eyes stared at her, and she could not help but feel yet again that he was trying to see into her soul. She thought she saw a small frown crinkle his forehead, but it was quickly covered up, and Palpatine muttered, "Yes..."

Soon, the moment was over, and she was moved on by her father to greet other people. She wanted to heave a sigh of relief, but she was certain she could feel the tyrant's gaze watching her every move.

****

Chinnatah stared at the lightsaber in his hands, delicately moving his wrist, testing the perfect balance of the weapon. It hummed and buzzed with every movement, singing the song he chose to orchestrate.

Tusken Raiders had never possessed any weapons remotely similar to this...

The dark human was full of surprises.

He felt a faint flicker of something from Vader. He frowned. Had he been accidentally projecting images towards the dark man? He hadn't been thinking about anything that should have caught Vader's attention. Slightly confused, he sent a curious probe toward the Sith Lord.

At last, the dark man spoke. "You are human, too, you know."

A jolt went through Chinnatah, and he stared incredulously at Vader. What was he talking about? Chinnatah sent a feeling toward Vader that was both demanding and questioning.

"You were not born of a Tusken Raider; you are human. You were probably kidnapped from your true family as a child."

Chinnatah made an adamant Tusken signal of denial. Vader was wrong. Arr't'ni was his mother, Xyd'rr'u his father. He had been born into the Tusken clan. He _belonged_ with the Tuskens. Why would Vader think otherwise?

"You do _not_ belong with the Tusken Raiders," Vader said, seeming to sense his thoughts. "You are human, as am I."

Chinnatah threw the dark man a Force rejection, backing up a few steps and suddenly dreading how he had thrown off his Tusken garb so quickly upon meeting him.

Uneasily, the youth noticed that the Dark Lord was quiet for a moment, as if dredging up a long-forgotten part of his past.

At last, however, the dark man spoke. "I have seen the faces they possess beneath the rags. Yours is not like theirs." To emphasize his point, Vader conjured up an image in Chinnatah's head. The face that gazed at him in his mind's eyes was slackened and lifeless, with hardly any resemblance to a human's.

_No!_ the youth's whole being shouted. That couldn't be the face of a Tusken Raider. _He_ was one of the Sand People. Vader was trying to trick him.

Wasn't he?

What did the dark man gain from deceit? Why was he telling him this?

Confusion spiraling through his system, Chinnatah made the hand signal of denial. No! _His_ was the face of a Tusken Raider. That image was not!

Darth Vader put another image into his mind. "That is an example of a typical human male, a man who could be very well be like your father."

Chinnatah made the defiant gesture again. He was sired by Xyd'rr'u, one of the Sand People...

_Wasn't_ he?

With a quick flicker of fear, he realized he had done something utterly wrong. He had allowed himself to be blinded by this powerful dark man who brought nothing but deceit, this human who had encouraged his doubts about everything he'd ever known.

Fear flitting through his system, Chinnatah shot out the door and then out into the corridor. He felt Vader reach out toward him for a second before giving up, apparently deciding that he needed some time alone to ponder what he'd been told.

Oh, he would have time alone, all right, Chinnatah promised himself. He headed straight toward Vader's area of the hangar, jumping into the TIE/Advanced fighter that Vader had designed and taught him to fly.

A human technician nearby recognized him and thought nothing of his appearance, not even questioning his take-off. He was granted clearance without having to say a word.

Vader had never let him take the TIE into hyperspace, but he knew how.

Fingering the rock collection in the pouch at his side, Chinnatah hurried to start the hyperspace sequence before the dark man knew what he was doing.

It was only when the stars blurred into hyperspace that he gave himself the luxury of releasing the breath he'd been holding. He was going home.

****

Darth Vader could have kicked himself. _Or perhaps I should find someone to chop off one of my hands again_, he thought darkly.

All the youth had needed was time alone, he had thought.

He should have realized the thrice-cursed child was more slippery than that. When Vader entered the docking bay, he did so with anger so great that even the few technicians nearby, who were giving him a wide berth, could feel it. It was with blind rage that he Force-swept a slow hyperdrive mechanic out of the way, slamming him into the wall and into unconsciousness.

As he took off in his personal TIE/Advanced fighter, which was warmed up as it always was (one day, the technicians had found out what happened when it was _not_ ready to leave at any moment, and he was certain they would never make _that_ mistake again), he prayed to the Force that he could somehow turn this event to his advantage.

The Emperor certainly wouldn't be happy if he found out Vader let the boy out of his grasp. But if all went well, Palpatine would never find out.


	12. Unhappiness of the Suns

Chinnatah stared at the setting suns.

The sky was streaked blood-red, and the Tatooinian suns seemed to be angry eyes looking down from a scowling sky.

He fiercely rubbed his bare thumb against his krayt dragon pearl before touching the cool stone to his burning-hot cheek.

They were dead.

They had all been slaughtered like a pack of womp rats.

Scavengers had already begun to work on their bodies. Their blasters and gaffi sticks were long-gone, probably having been taken by eager Jawas, and various creatures had already begun to pick at the Tuskens' bones.

Chinnatah finally brought his gaze back down to the remains of his mother...at least, the little that was left after she had been mowed down by a moisture farmer's blaster bolt and had most of her flesh stripped down to the bone by hungry Tatooinian creatures.

He knelt down, lightly running his hands over her familiar headdress. The scavengers hadn't taken it yet. Nor, he realized, had Tatooine's inhabitants gotten to the flesh beneath it.

Hesitantly, but unable to prevent himself, Chinnatah slowly removed the headdress. He looked at the face beneath for only a moment before closing his eyes.

The dark man had been right.

His face in no way resembled Arr't'ni's.

He squeezed his eyes closed even tighter.

Gone. Everything he'd known was gone.

...But it couldn't all be gone. Could it?

Surely it was just a bad dream, one he would wake up from at any moment. He would awaken to the smell of roasting dewback, to the feel of coarse cloth beneath him, to the sounds of groaning banthas and Mrekln's taunting, to the sight of his mother aiding the other Tusken females in food preparation...He hadn't lost all that, had he? He _couldn't_ have lost all that!

...But then the smell of acrid fear flooded his flaring nostrils. His own fear. Fear that he would never be a part of his old life again.

It really was all gone.

His past—his mother—

He knew now why he'd never felt like he had belonged, why he had never fit in. He hadn't been meant to.

But knowing that did not ease the pain in his heart.

Arr't'ni was dead, the one who had cared for him, the one he had repaid by turning his back on her. He should have stayed—he could have saved her!

He gnashed his teeth together as he got to his feet, his blue eyes opening with a fire in them that had never been there before. He could have brushed aside all of those cowardly moisture farmers with ease; they would not be able to get past his precise aim or dodge the vast power he could wield. He could have pushed them back as he'd done with Mrekln—they would have been beaten back like sand in the desert wind. He could have tossed their bodies aside like crumpled bags.

Chinnatah had killed a krayt dragon single-handedly. Beating off weapon-toting moisture farmers would be nothing compared to the lethal teeth, horns, and claws of that monstrous creature.

He made a hissing noise, the muscles in his jaw twitching. He could have killed them all. Certainly, they deserved to die.

He stared down at the Tusken corpses, which were strewn carelessly across the desert sand like the bodies of dead animals. He could have saved his mother. Even now, the bloodthirsty urge to avenge her was spreading throughout his body.

He could easily go and make mincemeat of all the nearby villagers. As he stared coldly in the direction of the closest village, he knew the power to do so was flowing through his veins. He could crush their futures, as they had crushed his past.

Suddenly, an icy chill passed down his spine. If he killed them, he would be no better than they were.

Chinnatah took in a haggard breath. Finally, he exhaled, much of his blind rage leaving along with the carbon dioxide. It had not been too long ago that he had been furious at the Tuskens for their slaughter of moisture farmers. Was he now to become a hypocrite?

He gazed sadly upon Arr't'ni's prostrate body, at the sand sweeping across her bones and what remained of her flesh. Surely the loss of someone dear to one's heart should be enough to wipe away all thoughts of being a true hypocrite. It could not be hypocritical to mourn for the death of a loved one...It could not.

He knelt down, craving to physically touch her one last time. Physical touch in Tusken society had always been so rare, seen as a weakness on a planet where Death always met the weak.

And now, never again would Chinnatah be able to hope for her touch, for her approval. For he always had, he realized—but now that he knew it, it was too late.

He made a silent prayer to the gods, and then, trembling, he tried to push all of his emotions to the back of his mind and focus on the practicalities of the matter at hand, though all he yearned to do was fall down beside Arr't'ni's body and never rise again.

Chinnatah stared at her, burning her image into his mind.

Tusken Raiders did not bury their dead, and he knew that Arr't'ni would never have expected or even wanted to be. Sometimes, Tuskens kept the skulls of the dead if in life their owners had been worthy members of the tribe, but Sand People did not waste time which was better spent honing combat skills or raiding unsuspecting homesteads.

Even with all that in mind, Chinnatah knew he could not stand the thought of Arr't'ni's, or Xyd'rr'u's, body being violated even further, nor could he stand the reminder of the blank gaze he knew would be all his foster mother's skull held for him. So he began the job of burial.

When at last he was finished, he ran his hand through the sand on the top of Arr't'ni's grave. It slid through his fingers, just as he had slid away from her life—only to find that she had died because he'd been unfaithful to her.

He had also been very ungrateful toward what he'd been given in life. He vowed to himself that he would never make that mistake again.

His hand had subconsciously made its way to his side, to his collection of stones, but, more specifically, back to the krayt dragon pearl he'd once held such pride in earning.

This part of his life was over; he would need it no longer.

He pressed the stone against his uncovered forehead, then his right cheek, then his left, then his lips. He clenched it in his right hand for a moment. Then he dropped it onto the rapidly cooling sand, which was no longer being heated by the beating suns, and he pressed the pearl deeply into the ground with his thumb.

The stone that had been given to him by Arr't'ni he placed into Xyd'rr'u's grave. The two mates were buried side-by-side, as Chinnatah thought they should be.

He felt the dark man, now present on the desert planet, reaching out toward him, but he rejected the probe. He had one more place to go. A feeling of dread was starting to creep past his shock.

****

So that was it.

As he stared at the outline of the gaderffii and the pile of bones lying on the cavern floor, he realized what had happened, and he felt himself falling to pieces once again.

Vrentlla, devastated at her partner's departure, had left the Tusken clan and retreated with Chinnatah's gaderffii stick into her and Chinnatah's special place so that she could die alone...

Acceptance. What he had received from her so often in life...But what, when it was most important for both of them, he had finally not gotten.

He fell to his knees, curling over his dead symbiotic partner's remains. Tears began to sting his eyes.

He hadn't understood her. He had foolishly thought she would be able to live without him.

He had bonded with her only to break away. _He_ had killed her.

Chinnatah was bowed down, still weeping silently, when the dark man found him.

****

Darth Vader stood in the entrance of the cave for quite some time, maintaining his distance. He could sense the boy's state. The boy was in pain, but he also was feeling intense rage directed toward both himself and those who had killed the Tuskens from his clan.

When at last the boy seemed calmer, Vader spoke. "You would have met their fate as well had you stayed behind."

He received a violent backlash of emotion in the Force from the youth.

"We are not of their kind." The Sith Lord paused, trying to think of a less harsh way to express what the boy needed to realize. Finally, he said carefully, "Tusken Raiders hold themselves back, refusing to interact with other species except in acts of war." He hesitated, not wanting to reveal more of his past but still feeling as if the Force were calling him to do so. "I was once in a position much like yours."

The boy raised his tear-stained face to look at him.

"My situation was almost reversed. I found my mother, who had married a moisture farmer, dead. She was killed by the Tusken Raiders."

The boy stared at him, trembling. He seemed to want to hear more from Vader, but the Sith Lord wanted to say no more on the subject.

"There is nothing more for you here. Come back with me to Coruscant."

Darth Vader began to leave the cave, pausing as he felt the boy's hesitation. He turned back. The child, quivering and looking like the mess Vader was sure he himself had looked all those years ago on Tatooine, briefly pulled together enough strength to place a picture in the Sith Lord's mind of a young bantha with wide, sad brown eyes.

The youth averted his eyes to the bones on the floor.

Of course.

Vader spoke softly, though there was no kindness in his voice. "Take the time you need to bury your bantha, but we need to return to Coruscant soon."

****

Chinnatah made a motion of affirmation, looking upon the bones of his dear friend and companion. He bit down hard on his lip, drawing blood.

He had killed her just as surely as he would have if he'd placed a blaster rifle to her skull. The least he could do was place her bones somewhere that they would not be further violated by Tatooine's inhabitants.

He thought about taking them and burying them outside, but then he decided against the gesture. She would rather stay here, he knew.

After taking out the supplies he'd never removed, Chinnatah placed her bones in the crevice he'd used for storage. Then, one by one, he set the colored rocks in his collection into and in front of the fissure, blocking part of it from easy access. Finally, he put the last rock into place: a smooth, shiny black stone, the first he had ever found.

Now, all that linked him to his past was buried.

He left the cavern after staring at it one last time, heading toward the TIE/Advanced he had arrived on planet in. Vader's ship was nearby—the Sith Lord was waiting to make certain that Chinnatah did indeed leave the planet.

****

Leia scowled. She had just returned to Alderaan from a Senate meeting on Coruscant, and matters had gone rather badly, as the Emperor had managed to pass more of his tyrannical legislation.

She was beginning to walk past her plump, pink-faced Aunt Celly, who was lying down on the couch and indulging in her daily bout of hypochondria as she tugged at her fading and extravagantly styled hair, when her Aunt Tia, who had been reading aloud to Celly, rose from her chair and came swooping toward the princess like a mother bird. "Oh, my darling Leia, the pittins have been dreadfully sad since you left. Taffy and Winkie have been sulking around, and AT-AV absolutely refuses to eat. You must go to the poor little babies and show them that you are doing well."

The princess nodded and suppressed a sigh, about to leave but then turning to ask a question. "Where's Aunt Rouge?"

"Probably having her hair dressed up for dinner in front of that gilt-framed mirror of hers," Tia answered. "She does love her boudoir."

"Yes, of course," Leia said, refraining from sighing once again. She left the room to find the pittins. They had probably gone insane with all the baby-talk Tia gave them (after all, Tia's son Nial had long outgrown baby-talk, so she had to practice on _someone_) and were sitting wishing for nothing more than an early death. Tia could be overbearing sometimes. Leia was just glad she wasn't in her cousin Nial's shoes.

Speaking of Nial, she should probably go talk to him after seeing the pittins. The youth hated the Empire almost as much as she did, and—while he could never replace Winter as a confidante—Leia usually felt better after talking to him. She could already see his twinkling eyes and hear him saying, "Your dad's gonna help the Empire tumble, I know it! With a little more time—_boom_! It'll fall! And it will be a mighty tumble indeed!"

Yes. She gave a small smile. He would be able to cheer her up.


	13. Confusion of the Suns

Chinnatah stared at the datapad in front of him.

Vader was having a protocol droid try to teach him how to read Basic, which was proving much more difficult for him to learn than merely _understanding_ Basic, as he couldn't easily pull from a mind to bring forth comprehension of it. Instead, he had to deal with the tediousness of memorization and practice.

The droid seemed especially frustrated—at least as frustrated as a droid could get—that Chinnatah refused to say anything aloud. The protocol droid could never be certain that his charge understood what was being taught.

The lean-bodied droid, whom Chinnatah had mentally nicknamed Opakwa after the Jawa term for "spare parts," began slowly, "Aurek. Besh. Cresh. Dorn. Esk. Forn. Grek—"

Chinnatah gently pushed away the droid's silver appendage and typed, _Boring_.

The droid's photoreceptors focused on the youth. "You have already memorized the Aurebesh? But my programs say that human youths around your age take approximately—"

_Yes_, the former Tusken typed quickly. _Fine. Boring._

Giving a mechanical impression of a sigh, Opakwa began to try to teach him more about words and syntax.

****

Leia scowled at AT-AV. She'd just had yet another annoying day of school.

Along with the other daughters of Alderaanian nobles, she went to the Alderaan Select Academy for Young Ladies. They were required to wear prim blue-and-white uniforms and to have their hair plaited in schoolgirl braids. In short, it was an unwanted nightmare.

Leia didn't mind dressing and acting regal in the Senate, but too many of the girls at the Academy were snobs who hid mind-altering yarrock in caches everywhere, further amplifying their inability to be truly modest.

She sighed. The only good thing about her school was that it gave her a well-rounded education. She was particularly interested in art, politics, and history—she was even fortunate to have Arn Horada, one of the greatest professors in the galaxy, as her teacher of history and politics, and she _loved_ his classes.

AT-AV tilted her head and then rolled on her back to bat at a few starblossom petals. Leia managed a small smile.

After school, Leia would usually go sit in the plains for a while alone and let Alderaan's beauty wash over her, but today AT-AV had practically forced her to take her along, and Leia was glad she had, for the pittin was already improving her mood.

Leia thought briefly to what she had recently learned. Her father had become more open with her due to Obi-Wan's urging and had begun telling her more about his dealings with the Rebel Alliance.

Apparently, the Incom Corporation staff had defected to the Rebellion, bringing along materials and information pertaining to the development of the T-65 X-wing starfighter, an advanced starcraft possessing strong shields, hyperdrive technology, and greater firepower than TIE Fighters and TIE Bombers. This new development meant the Rebellion no longer needed to rely just on old Dreadnaughts—having X-wings would allow the Rebellion to execute hit-and-run campaigns which pilots and their crafts would be more likely to survive.

The candy-pink creature purrled, disturbing Leia's thoughts. Smiling, Leia tickled AT-AV's belly. Why couldn't her life be as simple as that of a pittin's? No Empire to worry about, no political struggles, no weapons...Just the beauty of life.

AT-AV sat up and stared at her with inquisitive eyes. She made a soft noise, and then she curled up in Leia's lap and went to sleep.

_This_ was what Leia was fighting to protect. Simple lives with simple worries. Stroking the pittin's soft fur, Leia leaned back onto the soft grass, letting the gentle wind caress her face. She would one day take her father's place as senator, and she would fight to maintain justice for the galaxy. Her purpose in life was to stop the Empire from making the lives of common creatures miserable by such actions as controlling artistic expression. She only hoped she would succeed.

****

Chinnatah sighed. He had already beaten the most difficult level on the simulator Vader had had placed in his quarters, he was annoyed at having to constantly listen to his mechanical teacher's droning on and on about the Aurebesh, and he was tired of watching the few Empire-glorifying channels of the holovision Vader would let him access. In short, he was feeling very restless.

When he had agreed to leave Tatooine with Vader, he'd had no idea that the Sith Lord would be attending countless numbers of meetings, frequently leaving him alone with only Opakwa and servant droids to keep him company. He wished there were more humans around—he found it fascinating to watch their lips and faces as they communicated, for he'd been able to gain no knowledge of facial expressions when he had lived as a Tusken. Humans seemed to place great importance on the face, and he wanted to learn more about their ways. Chinnatah was beginning to feel claustrophobic after only seeing the palace walls for days on end, and if he didn't go out and get some fresh air—well, as fresh as air got on Coruscant—he felt he might begin to knock walls out. Most Ghorfa would probably have done so already.

Vader hadn't been around much lately, and as a result, Chinnatah had not learned very much about that so-called Force of his, but the youth felt he would not need to be able to access it for refuge from the palace. Most of the palace guards recognized him as being connected to Vader, and they would not question him. They wouldn't even really talk to him, which saddened him a bit, as he felt it would be nice to have a chance to observe their faces as they talked.

Why Vader had removed him from Tatooine, Chinnatah could not be sure. But he was willing to let the issue slide for the moment. He had other things to worry about.

Like getting out of the Imperial Palace, for instance.

Soon, after passing a few guards who only gave him short glances which he couldn't really read but guessed expressed mild curiosity, the youth was out on the streets, breathing in the various scents and looking with awe at the people around him.

He had never really noticed how busy Coruscant was. Creatures of all different species zoomed about in speeders or walked hurriedly to their destinations. Mos Eisley had only been vaguely similar. This was a _real_ city.

As he tried to reach out to the elusive Force, he felt a barrage of emotions pummel him, and he pulled back. What was _that_?

He tried to sift through his memory of the feelings, and he sensed emotions such as fear and malice. He shivered.

A voice in his ear whispered, "Do you support the Empire?"

Chinnatah jumped. He brought his hands up protectively as he turned, wishing furiously that he had a gaffi stick or blaster rifle or some such weapon.

"Whoa, easy. I just asked a simple question."

Chinnatah let himself relax a little. The one who had spoken appeared to be a human youth like himself, but with black hair and a presence that didn't seem to be threatening. Perhaps he was around Chinnatah's own age or a little older? He could not tell; he was not accustomed to trying to discern the ages of humans.

The stranger repeated his question, and Chinnatah began to make the "no" Tusken handsignal, but then he quickly changed it to the human method of shaking his head.

"Are you interested in becoming a member of the Rebellion?" The man's eyes seemed to flash as he talked. Chinnatah had the feeling that the human was passionate about his chosen subject, and he tried to etch the stranger's details into his mind—the movement and position of his eyebrows, his face, his mouth...

Seeing Chinnatah's hesitation, the dark-haired youth continued, "The Rebellion is in desperate need of members. People who'll pilot, smuggle...The works. You name it, the Rebellion needs it."

Chinnatah stared at him in interest.

****

He glanced around nervously. "Uh, let's move. Can't look too conspicuous, now can we?"

The brown-haired youth looked slightly confused but followed him nonetheless as he moved forward with no particular destination in mind.

Wedge Antilles had been born and raised on a spaceport in the Corellian system, and as a young teenager, he'd been orphaned when his parents were killed by pirates. He had bought a stock light freighter with the money he'd received from an insurance settlement, and though he had tried to start a shipping business, it wasn't long before he began smuggling weapons for the Rebellion and helping recruit members when he could. He also had aspirations of his own to one day sit in the cockpit of a starfighter and deal even more damage to the Empire.

His being on Coruscant was perhaps not the brightest of decisions, but the way Wedge figured it, the Imperials wouldn't believe that Rebels would be stupid enough to set foot on Coruscant, much less try to pick up shipments and recruit members for the Rebellion.

Wedge normally waited until he'd observed people for extended periods of time and was in a more remote setting before he tried to convince them of the evils of the Empire, but he'd had a strange feeling about this one...

Maybe it was the other youth's pained blue eyes that called out to him. Maybe it was the fact that he was near Wedge's own age.

Well, whatever it was, Wedge Antilles was too far into it to turn back.

"Have you always lived on Coruscant?" Wedge asked, giving his companion a sideways glance. This was a quiet one. Wedge hoped it wasn't because he was plotting his demise.

The youth made some strange hand gesture and then slowly shook his head with a perturbed look on his face.

"Ah...Well, I don't live here. I don't think I could stand the constant reminder of the Empire's so-called majesty...The Emperor just tries to hide his cruelty with luxury." Wedge thought he saw the other shiver. "So you don't like Palpatine, either?"

The youth shook his head.

Wedge didn't know what it was, but something pulled him to continue on. It didn't look like the youth was enthusiastic about jumping in and joining the Rebellion, but maybe one day his words would have some sort of effect. Sometimes, it just took a little time.

"He enslaves non-humans, kills those who anger him..." Wedge shook his head with a slight, grim grin. "It's best not to get me started on that subject. Don't think I could stop."

The other gave a tentative and seemingly calculated smile, as if picking up on Wedge's hopes that one day Palpatine would be gone and good will and peace would abound.

"I know you probably want some time to think about it. If you ever decide you want to help, go to the bar _Drunkard's Delight_ and ask for Juhatge. He'll get you hooked up."

****

The black-haired man disappeared, leaving Chinnatah staring after him. What had just happened?

Non-human slaves? Rebellion?

It seemed the dark man—no, he had a name, Vader—had a lot to explain to Chinnatah.

Vader...

Chinnatah winced, looking around as he realized he had no idea where he was.

On Tatooine, he had always been at home among the rocks and dunes, keeping a good track of direction, but here everything seemed the same—flashy and artificial.

Great. He was lost.

****

"What?" Vader growled. "You allowed him to leave the palace?"

"W-we th-thought it was under y-your orders," the officer stuttered.

"Never think," the Sith Lord told the man in a low growl, "that's what gets men with your low intelligence killed."

"I—"

****

Leia tried to control her impatience, but it was difficult. Meditation had just never seemed helpful to her, but Obi-Wan kept insisting that she meditate with him.

"You need to learn to clear your mind," he had told her time and time again. "Envelop yourself in the Force, and you may find yourself able to see the future, the past, the present..."

Upon first learning of the possibility of seeing that which ordinary people could not, Leia had tried very hard to meditate. Apparently, however, her effort was in vain, for nothing came out of it.

Still, Obi-Wan placed great importance on meditation, so perhaps she should continue trying.

Leia closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath and letting it out. She willed the Force to come over her, to seep into her pores, to cover her mind, to blanket her presence.

It felt as if the Force hesitated at first before coming; then she realized it was her own hesitation, and she tried to loosen her hold on herself. It was better for her in this moment to view herself as but a drop in the ocean that was the Force. Rather than someone trying to control the ocean, she was a speck being carried along by it...

_Bright lights—overwhelmingly bright lights everywhere. Flash flash flash. Not calming like the twin suns._

_Hurrying beings—careless hurrying beings everywhere. Step step step. Not mindful of surroundings like those back home._

_Flash. Step. Flash. Step. The _brmmmm _of a speeder. Flash. Step. The laugh of a passerby. Flash. Step. Stumble._

Leia gasped at the bombardment of sensations, trying to pull back from the strange and almost alien yet vaguely familiar mind. Yes, she was certain she had been in someone else's mind—that mind was not her own.

Obi-Wan pulled out of his own meditation and looked at Leia with concern. "What is it?"

Leia blinked. "I—I don't know, really. It was like I was on Coruscant, only I was in someone else's head..."

The Jedi appeared troubled. "Did you see anything else?"

"No," Leia said, hesitating. "Do you know of a planet with twin suns?" Immediately, she felt stupid for asking the question. There must be plenty of planets with twin suns.

But Obi-Wan looked as if he had been hit in the head with a durasteel plate. After he found his voice, he asked her, "Did you see such a planet?"

"No...Not exactly...Obi-Wan," Leia said quietly, "what does it mean?"

"I do not know, Padawan," Obi-Wan whispered, using a term Leia had only heard a handful of times, which showed how disturbed he was. "...I do not know."

****

Chinnatah looked around uneasily. Neon-colored signs flashed all around him, people hurried all over the place, emotions seemed to fill the air...

He looked up at one bright sign, but the mix of Aurebesh letters meant nothing to him. However, he _could_ sense a lot of people inside the building, so he took a deep breath and entered.

The place was thick with smoke and smelled of a plethora of species all coinciding in one small, confined space. Chinnatah resisted the urge to cough, staring instead at the strange creatures all around him.

His first glance revealed to him a standing cluster of conversing humanoids wearing clothes so scanty that the former Tusken Raider could not help but turn his gaze away from them. He began walking instead toward the drunkards gathered around the bar, preferring them over the immodest humanoids. He hovered near the bar, unsure of what he should do or where he could go and listening in on the various conversations in hopes of retrieving some hint.

"So then he tells me, 'You don't want to sell me death sticks,' and suddenly, I had this weird urge to go home and rethink my entire life," a middle-aged humanoid was saying, "and from that day on I've been a better man. No more death sticks, just a few drinks a week...Well, okay, a few drinks a day."

An angry human was talking to a green creature with several tentacles. "That blasted Darth Vader killed my inside man. Now, I'm gonna have to look for yet another guy to spy on Imperial activities. That krethin' Sith Lord goes through men quicker than a Hutt goes through a bowl of Klatooine paddy frogs. If he doesn't stop killing people, soon there won't be an Empire _left_. He'll have killed everyone in it."

As the words washed over him, Chinnatah felt himself getting sick to his stomach. From the sound of that, Darth Vader didn't seem to be much different from the Ghorfa. They killed without reason, and it seemed _he_ did as well.

The tentacled alien gurgled back in Basic, "Whaane ahv my nestlings wahs enslaved by the Empiiire. It might not have been easieerr for smugglers to leeve in the Reepublic with all those Jedi running around, but at least one did not have to wahrry about being enslaved by the gohvernment."

Chinnatah felt a cold, clammy hand on his shoulder, and he jumped and sprung around, sinking into attack position.

A human with an ugly and recently scarred face and a humanoid with shining eyes were standing in front of him.

"He doesn't like you," the human explained.

Chinnatah stared at him.

"And I don't like you either."

The boy began backing up, sensing that no good could come out of the confrontation. He accidentally backed into a scantily clad human female, who cooed, "Aww, little boy lost and not know what to do?" When he didn't respond, she began cackling.

Chinnatah bit his lip, looking back and forth between her and the angered pair. Finally, he turned and ran, their taunting laughter following him out the door.

He kept running, not really knowing where he was going, just knowing that he had to get away from there, but he was suddenly forced to stop when he ran into something hard. He began to fall backwards, but a white-armored arm reached out to steady him.

"Are you Darth Vader's charge?" the Stormtrooper asked in a tinny voice, looking back and forth between him and the miniature holopicture he held in his hand.

Exhausted yet relieved, Chinnatah nodded.

The Stormtrooper put the picture in a pouch and brought up his comlink. "My lord, the boy has been found."

****

"Never _ever_ run away, do you understand?" the Sith Lord said angrily.

Almost afraid that the dark man would slap him, Chinnatah nodded, his blue eyes averted to the ground. Indeed, he heard the man all too well.

"You could have been killed or kidnapped," Vader noted darkly. "There is a _reason_ I have been confining you to the castle, as I am sure you found out on your venture today."

The youth nodded. He understood.

"Until you learn more about human society, there is no hope that you can survive out _there_."

The boy closed his eyes. Yes, he knew. He had learned that, certainly.

Darth Vader looked at him for a moment. "There's something disturbing you." It was not a question. "What is it?"

Chinnatah merely shook his head slowly. He would save that for another day.

****

"What is thy bidding, my master?" Darth Vader inquired from upon bended knee.

"I have received word that your charge has become restless. If you are not able to restrain him, Lord Vader, I will be more than willing to take control of him myself." The Emperor stared at him for a moment with his evil eyes. "Perhaps I know a way to decrease his restlessness. You cannot be with him all the time, after all. A companion might be suitable for him."

_And would allow you to keep an eye on him?_ Vader thought from behind one of the strongest mental shields he possessed. Out loud, he said, "Yes, my master."


	14. Changes for the Suns

"You have become far too _restless_," Vader told Chinnatah, using the word Palpatine had chosen. Displeasure was easily evident in his voice, much less his presence. "My master is going to provide you with a _human_ companion whom you will obey, so as to prevent any of your urges to go gallivanting around the planet. Is that understood?"

The youth nodded in comprehension.

"Very well. Your new companion should be coming by soon."

****

When a young human around his age was brought into Vader's quarters, Chinnatah simply stared. With red hair, a pale complexion, and green eyes, this human was quite unlike most of the humans he had seen on Tatooine with their brown and blond hair and tanned faces.

He carefully studied the human's posture. Some postures were universal, such as the submissive way in which this newcomer carried himself. But, Chinnatah noted to himself, there almost seemed to be a hint of defiance beneath the submission. He moved his eyes to the human's face.

"This is your new companion," the dark man told Chinnatah. "Her name is Mara Jade."

Chinnatah looked at the newcomer, and Vader's words almost went right past him before he concentrated on them. _Her_?

Chinnatah subconsciously made a Tusken gesture of skepticism. This was a female? How was he supposed to distinguish between the different human genders? This Mara Jade wore no headdress...Were there other distinguishing remarks between male and female humans? He told himself to ask Opakwa later; surely the silver protocol droid would be able to tell him.

****

Darth Vader began, "Jade, this is—" and cut off. The boy had not been given a name.

Well, Vader amended, the boy likely had a name, but, as he was not speaking, Vader could not exactly know what that name was.

Oh, what was even the importance of a name? Vader scowled beneath his helmet before admitting to himself that names could be very important. Certainly, they could signal one's departure from a previous life. His own name change had certainly signaled a shift from weak Jedi Knight to strong Sith Lord.

The youth turned his head to look at Vader, sending a questioning probe.

Vader hated to be having this conversation in front of Jade, but apart from sending her away for a few minutes and arousing hers and the Emperor's suspicion, there was nothing he could do. Well, he _could_ give the boy a name, as Palpatine had done for him...But he would prefer if the boy chose one or perhaps let him know what he was called by the Tuskens.

"My name is Vader," the Dark Lord noted carefully. "What is yours?"

The boy hesitated for but a moment before sending Vader an image of the twin Tatooinian suns.

"Sun?" Vader ventured. Both he and the boy knew that unless the boy spoke, the name could not be exact. So, after a brief pause, the boy nodded.

Vader felt one of his hands twitch involuntarily. He felt uneasy at the thought of how well-suited the name "Sun" seemed to be for the boy. Was it a signal from the Force that the child was grounded in the Light? Or was it a signal that Vader was pulling the youth into the darkness, forcing a sunset upon him? Why must the name be associated with such heavy symbolism?

"Very well. Sun, Jade, I trust you can amuse yourselves while I am gone." Vader felt a glimmer of amusement himself. With Sun's refusal to talk, despite the absence of any abnormalities with his vocal cords, there was little likelihood that they would actually be amused in his absence. He considered warning them against leaving the palace, but he knew Jade would keep them where they were supposed to be. He could certainly trust her to do _that_ much.

Vader nodded and then turned and left, the door closing behind him.

****

Everything happened so fast.

Tia finished her daily glass of "sweetdrink" (in actuality, Alderaanian ale), arose from her chair, and collapsed, dead within seconds.

Bail, Celly, and Rouge cried out, rushing toward her. Leia and Nial ran into the room after hearing the noise. Celly tried to call the Aldera Universal Medcenter, but it was late, too late.

Celly and Rouge sobbed, Leia stared blankly, and Nial and Bail trembled. It had to have been poison—Leia thought she recognized the signs of Malkite themfar. Bail smelled the cup in which the Alderaanian ale had resided, and he gave a small nod that confirmed their fears. The members of the Royal Houses were all trained to recognize various kinds of poisons, even though it was only rarely that they attempted to use their training.

"Why?" Rouge cried out. She and Celly had not yet realized that Tia's death had not been a natural one.

After a moment of silence, Nial turned to Bail with a hard set in his brown eyes. "It was a warning, wasn't it?"

Bail bit his lip and furrowed his brow, trying to caution the sable-haired youth, "Nial..."

Seeing the wretchedness around her, Leia felt heart-wrenched. _Why_ hadn't Obi-Wan sensed this? The Force allowed him to see the future, didn't it?

Her anger start to grow, but she started to push it away as she reluctantly admitted to herself that perhaps Jedi were fallible...And Obi-Wan didn't even know what had happened—he was off meditating, not even realizing the terrible events that had unfolded...And possibly that _were_ to unfold—for Leia had an ominous feeling, as if something just as bad as her aunt's death were about to happen. She could sense the intense animosity radiating from her cousin, and she knew he would not be content to sit back and grieve. The Empire had dealt him a personal blow.

"The Emperor's got his eye on you. He's got an eye on this whole family," Nial continued, his voice steady until it came to the word "family."

"Nial," Bail Organa pleaded with his nephew. Bail's sisters weren't supposed to know about his involvement in the Alliance—certainly not at a time like this.

"My mother is dead," Nial stated tremulously, blinking back tears. "And I will avenge her."

Without another word, Nial left the room.

Bail followed, Leia trailing unnoticed behind him. Nial's movements were slow but firm, and Bail called out to him, "Nial."

The man's nephew reluctantly turned, his eyes red and his face grim. "What is it, uncle?" There was a strange harshness in his voice.

"What are you going to do?" Bail queried, fearing the answer.

Nial's eyes glinted with sly hatred. "Why, I'm going to Coruscant to kill the Emperor, of course." He laughed a cold laugh the likes of which Leia had never heard from him.

"Nial, _no_!" Bail exclaimed, terror flitting across his features. "That's suicide!"

The youth gave his uncle an odd grin. "Well, then, Uncle Bail, call me suicidal!"

"Nial, there's another way! You can join the Rebellion—"

"And do what, uncle? You know I have no piloting skills. Oh, I know, I could shoot off jokes at them! That would have them rolling on the ground, most certainly! And then it wouldn't take much more effort to thrust them in_to_ the ground!"

"There are ground troops—" Bail tried, but his nephew cut him off.

"Oo, and then I could kill some nameless Stormtroopers, of which there will always be more!" The youth shook his head, looking disgusted. "You know, sometimes I wonder how you ever became a politician, uncle."

"Nial," Leia spoke up sharply, her eyes narrowed. Bail turned to look at her in surprise; he hadn't realized she was there.

"Sorry, dear cousin, mine uncle. You both know I was never the one to do the smart thing. Now, I'm off to Coruscant to kill me a despot." Nial moved to leave.

"Nial, _no_! If you do this, you'll endanger us all," Bail said in a low voice.

"I think you've done quite a lot of that yourself, uncle," Nial said harshly.

Bail looked pained, and Leia tried pleading once more, "Nial, please don't go!"

Pain flashed across her cousin's face, and he whispered, "I really _am_ sorry, Leia," before disappearing out the door.

****

Mara Jade stared at Sun. She thought the name he had just received seemed slightly off, but it didn't really matter to her.

"So, you don't talk," Mara stated flatly. She was annoyed at having been stuck with baby-sitting one of Vader's charges, but it was better that the said charge remain silent than be talkative.

Sun shook his head, staring at her with his startlingly blue eyes. She noticed he stared at her lips whenever she spoke, and she wondered if he were deaf or simply odd.

"What do you do, then?"

The other youth hesitated a moment before implanting an image in her mind of a simulator.

"You like to fly, huh?" She smirked. She wasn't exactly averse to the activity herself.

Hesitating, he imitated her grin and nodded.

Mara gave a mental snort. Her master had nothing to fear from this one. So he could put images in people's heads—so what? She crossed her arms and inclined her head. "Take me to the sim room, then."

After a brief moment of hesitation and a strange gesture, Sun began walking toward one of the doors in Vader's quarters.

****

Bail stared after his nephew. According to his sister's will, he was supposed to receive guardianship of the youth in the event of her death, but he knew Nial would never yield to anyone's authority. Particularly not now.

Bail was faced with an agonizing decision, and at that moment he hated the Empire more than ever.

Since Nial refused to fight against the Empire with the Rebellion underground and was instead taking his personal vendetta public, Bail had two choices. He could let him be killed before reaching Palpatine—for killed he would be—and thus implicate the Organa family even further, or he could call on the authorities. The latter option would likely end up with Nial being killed or sent to an Imperial prison.

Bail took in a deep breath, tightly closing his eyes. Nial was probably gathering his belongings from his room. And he would probably take a little time to scrounge for some money and food.

"Leia, go take care of your aunts."

Though he was not looking at her, he could practically sense the frown on his adopted daughter's face. "Father, what are you—"

"Leia, please go," he asked, sounding pained.

He heard the rustle of her clothes as she left the room. Shuddering with the effort to compose himself, Bail considered finding Obi-Wan and asking him for advice. But he knew this was his call, so he refrained from searching.

****

Nial heard the door to his room open, and he stiffened. "I told you uncle," he was saying as he turned, "I'm not going to—"

He froze.

Betrayed.

****

Bail hated both himself and the Empire, but he had known, _known_, what he had to do.

And so there he was in the room of his nephew, bringing the unarmed Alderaan Guard to arrest him.

_Slam_! went Nial's suitcase onto the floor. _Click_! went the cuffs onto Nial's wrists. _Thud_! went Bail's heart as he stared with tears in his eyes at his nephew.

"I am so sorry," Bail said silently, moving his mouth though he could not actually force his vocal cords to work.

Nial stared at him, questions written across his face. He didn't understand why Bail was doing this to him, why Bail couldn't give him this one relief from his mother's death. A tear glistened in his left eye, but he was too proud to let it fall. He did not speak his confusion, his indignation—but Bail heard it all in his heart as loudly as if the youth had shouted it.

As the Alderaan Guard began to take the young man away, Bail whispered, "I cannot allow you to shame our family."

"No," Nial mumbled as he passed his uncle, "you have just done that yourself."

Bail sat down on his nephew's bed, burying his tears in his nephew's pillow. Why did the Empire tear so many families apart?

****

After a few minutes in the sim room, Mara's opinion of Sun went up several notches. She eventually called for a pause, finding her curiosity piqued about this mysterious boy. Palpatine had not given her much information about her assignment, and the boy most likely wouldn't tell anyone that she had asked him personal questions.

"Where are you from?" she inquired.

He flashed her an image of twin suns, hesitated, and then showed her several images of a planet covered in sand.

"Tatooine?" Mara asked quickly. She had been to the planet once on a mission, and it was not an experience she cared to repeat.

Sun nodded.

"Did Vader just take you from some moisture farm or bar?" she queried.

The other youth shook his head, sending an image into Mara's mind of several Sand People and a small bantha. The image was laced with several emotions: pride, sorrow, regret, nostalgia...

Mara frowned. "Were you a Tusken Raider?" This was certainly an interesting development...She had thought the Tusken Raiders loathed humans—how would a human boy end up among their numbers?

Sun made a strange gesture before nodding.

The young woman paused, an idea coming to her. "In that case, you must be a pretty good fighter. Come on, I've been needing to brush up on my fighting skills..." She gave a sweet—if fake—grin in an attempt to encourage him, but the effect of the grin seemed to be lost on him. _Must be those rags that Tusken Raiders wear—I guess they aren't that used to seeing facial expressions._

After a few moments of hesitation, however, Sun seemed to accept her offer. Mara was glad—the Tusken Raiders probably had a style of fighting different from that which she was accustomed to, and her martial arts masters had always told her that she needed to experience as many styles of fighting as possible.

****

It was not long before Bail was called to the communications station. He was not surprised to see a hologram of the Emperor. Palpatine had spies everywhere—he had probably been informed the minute Bail had contacted the Alderaan Guard. If Bail had had any doubts before about who had poisoned his sister, all those doubts were gone now.

The Alderaanian prince bowed his head, "My emperor."

"I received word of your nephew's intended treachery," the Emperor said in a low voice. "I am glad you reported him, my friend. I will even reward you for your loyalty—rather than having young Nial Organa killed, as is the usual punishment for such a traitor, he is to be sent to the prison facility at Kessel."

Bail was glad the hologram was small so that Palpatine could not see the tears in his eyes or the anger in his face. Being sent to the spice mines of Kessel was a fate worse than death. The brutal Imperial prison at Kessel was hardly a prison at all. It was instead a place where those who displeased the Emperor found awaiting them both torture and an inevitable and wretched descent into madness.

"Thank you, my emperor," Bail said softly.

How Bail hated the Empire.


	15. Growth of the Suns

Mara had requested for a droid to bring poles that were similar in size to the Sand People's gaffi sticks. Sun had looked at his stick for a moment before grasping it surely. Mara paused to recall the methods she had been taught to use while fighting with stick-like objects, briefly considering strategies. Then she lunged.

Sun seemed ready for her, however. He blocked, feinted, and then a few moves later he had her down on the ground, his metal pole pointed at her throat.

"What?" she gasped in surprise. How in blazes had this boy beaten her? She had been trained by some of the best martial artists in the galaxy!

Sun gave her a sweet grin, and somehow Mara knew that he was imitating the look she had given him earlier.

Glaring, Mara shoved the pole aside and got to her feet. "How did you do that?" she demanded. Her frustration was not helped by the fact that she could sense his amusement through the Force.

Tilting his weapon, Sun sent her a mental image of the moves he had used in slow motion.

Mara's lip twitched. The maneuver was somewhat crude, but it was effective.

"Don't expect to beat me so easily next time," Mara warned, preparing to emphasize defense over offense for once.

An hour later, when Vader returned to his quarters, he found a note directing him to the large room where the two were still fighting.

****

_At least the funeral is lovely,_ Leia thought in a failed attempt to cheer herself up.

Alderaanian funerals were said to be among the most beautiful in the galaxy. But only outsiders could really appreciate such funerals; people who knew the deceased were typically too wrapped up in grief to truly care about whether the funeral was magnificent or not.

Tears traced paths down Leia's cheeks. Aunt Tia certainly would have thought the funeral beautiful, but Leia couldn't take solace in that...

The Empire had brought this funeral about. All her grief could be traced back to the Empire.

Her father was devastated by the whole incident; as for Leia, well, she hadn't really gotten over the shock of it quite yet...And Obi-Wan, the wise Jedi who always had some piece of advice to give, remained silent—even _he_ did not seem to know what to say.

Leia was grateful that Obi-Wan had decided to attend the funeral, though he was running the risk of being identified. The place seemed to be crawling with Imperials...Though Leia could not see them all, she could sense an intense wariness in some humans; such a feeling was atypical for someone at a funeral, and Obi-Wan had confirmed her suspicions of their Imperial origins in a low voice.

The sinister Palpatine could not help but keep his eye on Leia's family. She grasped at and clenched her black sleeve, her face becoming even grimmer.

_Your death shall not be in vain, Aunt Tia...And your sacrifice shall not be in vain either, Nial_, Leia vowed to herself.

In a way, she considered this funeral to be Nial's as well. She had lost her friend and cousin to a brutal Imperial prison, and the pampered youth wouldn't last long there, Leia knew. Earlier, she had nearly asked her father to think about sending a rescue mission, but the words had died unsaid. She knew he would refuse to do it. Palpatine would probably be watching the Organa family closely for a while, and her father wouldn't dare to risk it.

She wished Winter were with her.

****

Garm Bel Iblis stared out the viewport.

It seemed as if he were always on the run, always directing this strike or that against the Empire. But that was all that was left of his life, really...

He ate, slept, went to meetings, commanded fleets, received news...And far too often, the news wasn't good.

He had heard Bail Organa's ill news: a sister had been murdered by the Empire. His chest had constricted after hearing of the incident, and he had recalled his own personal tragedy.

They said that memories faded with the years, but his memory of that day had, if anything, gotten more vivid.

He had been talking to an Alliance contact, codename Aach, right before he was to give a speech. He could remember being annoyed at the thought of the Empire, and then, moments later, the Treitamma Political Center had exploded. There had been a haze over his mind and then sudden clarity—his wife Arrianya and his two children had been inside the building. He could still smell the smoke, could still remember how he had trembled, could still remember the hopelessness and sorrow he had felt as Aach had told him to leave. _Bel Iblis_ had been the target. The Empire had killed his family, but _he_ should have been the one killed.

He had told Aach that fighting with emotion was the worst way to fight, as the emotion would eventually burn away—but for him it had never burned away. Flames of emotion still raged in his heart. He knew the pain Bail Organa must be feeling, having to live with the knowledge that it was because of him that a loved one had died.

The Rebel Alliance was all Garm Bel Iblis had left; the fight was personal, though he tried to intellectualize it...And for Bail Organa, it had become more personal as well.

Mon Mothma had not lost family yet, though she had barely escaped arrest years ago. It was up to her to remain the cool head in the triad composed of Bel Iblis, her, and Bail Organa. But Bel Iblis feared her ambitious nature—would she try to usurp power? Would she attempt to set herself up as Empress of the galaxy?

He certainly prayed she would not.

********************

Sun had learned much in a year and a half with the dark man. He had learned quite a lot about humans—the proper way to eat, which seemed sort of a ridiculous and drawn out process; what types of food humans typically ate, most of which were quite good despite their startlingly strong tastes; and how to distinguish between males and females. For some reason, though, Opakwa had had a difficult time explaining the difference between males and females due to Sun's age, though the former Tusken didn't really understand what the problem was...When Sun started growing hair on his face, Opakwa told him that most male humans shaved their faces, so after a few harrowing experiences with a razor, Sun was finally able to present a hair-free face (with the exception of his eyebrows, which Opakwa told him never _ever_ to shave off).

He understood Basic (both reading and writing) quite well, even without help from the Force, and he was becoming skilled at reading lips, though his reasons for doing so were not out of necessity but fascination. With lips and facial expressions, the latter of which Sun was becoming better at imitating, Mara was Sun's main model. Vader wore a mask, and there were rarely other humans around, so Mara basically provided his only chance to study the human face apart from the strange holovision device. He and Mara had even shared fighting techniques with each other and were incorporating new elements into their dueling styles. Sun was also becoming more skilled with a blaster and better at piloting. Some of his favorite moments were ones spent out in space participating in mock dogfights with Vader. He wasn't certain, but he thought maybe Vader enjoyed those moments as well. It was always hard to tell with the dark man.

As Sun became more accustomed to human ways, it seemed as if Vader were experiencing increasing feelings of dread. He wasn't quite sure why—what would the dark man be dreading?

One day, the dark man came to him with an aura of seriousness surrounding him.

"You seem to be more comfortable with human ways," Vader observed.

Sun hesitated only slightly before both smiling and nodding, feeling proud of himself for using two human methods of expression at once.

"It is time to begin your Force training."

Sun felt unease pass over him. He had the feeling that once he truly began this training, his life would never be the same...

Of course, there had already been several drastic changes in his life...What was one more?

He made the Tusken hand signal for "ready," experiencing frustration when he realized he didn't know a human equivalent. But Vader seemed to know what he meant.

"Levitate this chair," the dark man said simply.

Sun looked at the chair. He had levitated a datapad, and he had pushed Mrekln and Vader...But how could he levitate that chair?

"If you take hold of your anger, then you shall find that the chair lifts with ease," Vader stated.

The former Tusken was skeptical. It was just a chair! He didn't feel any anger towards it—really, such rage seemed ridiculous.

But he did reach out to the Force and concentrate on the chair...Surely it wasn't _that_ heavy...

Within moments, he had the chair up in the air.

Excited with himself, he turned to the dark man, expecting to sense approval. Instead, all he sensed was displeasure...

What had he done wrong?

****

The boy hadn't been using the Dark Side.

While Vader wasn't sure if Sun had been using the Light Side exactly, he _knew_ that what the boy had used was not the Dark Side.

The former Tusken Raider had exuded no malice, no hatred. He had simply made a calm attempt to lift the chair, as if he had wanted to become one with the chair or some other ridiculous-sounding nonsense.

Vader scowled beneath his mask. That definitely did seem like the twisted reasoning of the Jedi.

And the Sith Lord was presently faced with a difficult decision. He could insist on use of the Dark Side, possibly frightening the boy, or he could begin ambiguously, attempting to emphasize Dark Side elements later.

Vader knew he should be advocating only the Dark Side; his master would be displeased if he knew otherwise...

But Vader also knew that Sun wasn't entirely tamed yet. He was still a wild animal; if Vader were not careful, then the boy would be spooked and run away once again.

And then Vader might be forced to deal with another of Palpatine's Hands coming to serve as a "companion" for the boy...If Palpatine didn't decide to train Sun himself.

Yes, he should definitely save the Dark Side for later.

****

Over the years, a growing concern of Obi-Wan's had been Leia's hatred of the Empire.

Her hatred was certainly understandable, as the Empire was continuously fueling the flames of her hatred with violent and oppressive acts, but...

Obi-Wan had hoped that Leia would grow up as a normal human female. And then Bail had insisted that Leia receive basic Force training, and he hadn't felt like he could refuse...Yet she was certainly not anywhere close to becoming a Jedi Knight. And with Bail acting as an anti-Empire role model (though Obi-Wan, as a Jedi Master, was certainly not without blame), Leia was unable to obliviously live out her life. And so, instead of trying to figure out how to win the heart of a boy, Leia was trying to figure out how to take down an Empire.

Leia held contradictory roles. Her hatred stopped her from becoming a true Jedi, her political nature kept her from becoming just an average girl, and her Jedi training tried to pull her away from fighting against the Empire.

Obi-Wan didn't know how to quell hatred. He had failed with Anakin, and he didn't think he could succeed with Anakin's daughter. He wondered if perhaps he should send her to Dagobah to train with Yoda...But he knew that she wouldn't want to be pulled away from her political duties.

He should've chosen the boy, shouldn't he have?

...What had he done?


	16. Darkness and the Suns

More than a year later, Sun was lightsaber-dueling with a droid.

When his lightsaber training had first begun, he had moved past a simple seeker droid quickly. Presently, he was fighting an intelligent training droid that wielded a lightsaber.

Vader stood nearby, proffering remarks only rarely. He usually reserved most of his comments for when the duel was over.

When Sun finally managed to sever the droid's appendage and send its lightsaber to the floor, he turned to Vader, panting. He switched off the red saber and waited for Vader to begin talking.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Your style is still somewhat lacking," Vader began. "You are too defensive. The defensive opponent will find himself hard-pressed by an offensive one. If _you_ would press your advantages, then you would find yourself winning more quickly...Your footwork, however, seems to have improved. Your dancing sessions with Jade seem to have done you some good."

Sun felt embarrassed; he hadn't realized that Vader had known about the dancing. Mara had told him that learning to dance would help him in his fighting, and he certainly felt lighter on his feet after a few lessons given to him by her. Her style of dancing was a lot different from the dancing Tuskens sometimes partook in, but he found it pleasant.

"You should try harder to envelop yourself in the Force. If you do, then you will not find yourself so exhausted after a duel."

A muscle in Sun's cheek twitched. He had lived without the Force for so long; he hated to rely on it in a fight.

But he gave Vader a nod of comprehension. The dark man _was_ speaking the truth, whether Sun liked it or not.

****

Leia felt breathless. At eighteen, she was presently the youngest human ever to serve in the Imperial Senate—she had actually beaten Mon Mothma's record!

Her father, who had given up his seat to her, had reclaimed his position as Viceroy and First Chairman of Alderaan. He had even given her the Alderaan Diplomatic Cruiser he had used to travel to and from Coruscant—the _Tantive IV_!

Leia, however, didn't plan to just use the ship as a transport to meetings of the Imperial Senate. The _Tantive IV_ had diplomatic immunity, which meant it would have greater freedom than other ships. She would be able to help the Alliance by participating in secret missions and pretending she was simply doing humanitarian work...

As if that weren't exciting enough, Winter had finally convinced Bail to take up arms, and he was presently succeeding in convincing the people of Alderaan to renounce the pacifism that he had helped instate after the Clone Wars. Leia's hopes for the Rebellion continued to grow every day.

Leia would ensure that the Empire atoned for all the ill it had done to innocents.

****

One day, Qui-Gon Jinn appeared before Obi-Wan in the latter's Alderaanian quarters.

"Master?" Obi-Wan whispered, standing up with a surprised look on his face. His former master did not appear very often.

"You are troubled, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's words were spoken without emotion, but there was a fatherly and concerned glint in his eyes.

Obi-Wan looked down at the floor. The years had been unkind to him, and his hair had prematurely grayed. Despite the pride he felt at watching Padmé's daughter grow up, Obi-Wan felt as if his every second were overshadowed by his failure with Padmé's husband and son. The happiness he had felt when Qui-Gon had been alive, the happiness he had regained when Anakin Skywalker had been his prospering apprentice—all his previous happinesses felt bitter in his mouth.

"You are right, Master," Obi-Wan whispered. "I am troubled."

Qui-Gon remained silent, waiting for Obi-Wan to talk.

"I do not know what is happening to the boy...And Leia is filled with such anger—I am afraid she is her father's daughter..." Padmé's anger had been harnessed, but Obi-Wan felt that Leia's anger had the potential to spread out of control like a wildfire.

"You do not know Leia's path," Qui-Gon said gently. "And you must follow the will of the Force. You may try to help Leia, but you must allow her to choose in the end."

"Anakin chose his own path, and look at what happened to the Jedi," Obi-Wan returned quietly. Whenever he was around Yoda and Qui-Gon, he felt as if he were still a mere Padawan, frustrated with the wisdom of those who had been Jedi longer than he had.

"The Jedi grew blind, Obi-Wan. Even the Jedi have faults."

"I fear he'll find her, Master."

Qui-Gon gave Obi-Wan a sad smile. "There may still be hope for Anakin. His finding her might not be such a bad—"

"_Master_!" Obi-Wan interjected. "She must be fully prepared before she truly meets with him. If he finds her before she is ready..."

"The future is always in motion, Obi-Wan. You cannot control Vader's actions. You can only hope that Anakin will release himself from the bonds of Vader."

"Anakin is gone."

"No man is ever completely gone," Qui-Gon said gently. "This is the last time I will appear to you in the guise of a mentor. You are no longer my Padawan—you are a Jedi Master...I just want you to remember two things: never give up hope and never force decisions upon anyone. A Jedi Master is more of a guide than a true master. No one wants to be enslaved to the desires of others."

"I miss you, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan whispered. His eyes glimmered with moisture.

"No man is ever completely gone," Qui-Gon smiled. "I am one with the Force, yes, but remember, Obi-Wan, the Force is one with all."

The great Jedi Master disappeared, leaving behind only an echo in the Force. Obi-Wan sat in his quarters for hours afterward, lost in thought.

****

Leia was contemplating a datapad when Obi-Wan approached her. She smiled at the Jedi Master. "Hello, Obi-Wan."

He nodded at her, but she could see that he felt troubled. "Hello, Leia."

"What's wrong?" Leia queried, the datacard she was reading forgotten.

The Jedi hesitated. "I want to tell you a story."

Intrigued, Leia encouraged, "Please do, Obi-Wan." The Jedi was usually giving advice for situations rather than actually telling her about situations he had faced...She didn't begrudge him his privacy, however—she suspected the past was painful for him.

Obi-Wan took in a deep breath, looking around the parlor before bringing his eyes back to rest on Leia. "There was once a boy. He grew up as a slave, but he was rescued by the Jedi...The Jedi thought he would be able to fulfill a prophecy; they thought he would the one who would bring balance to the Force..." He paused. "The boy hated—but he also loved...And both his love and his hate ended up destroying him. His love of his mother brought him hatred toward those who had killed her, and so he killed them. His love of his wife brought him hatred toward those who would work against the vision he held for him and his wife, and so they were also killed. But his wife was not mired in hatred as he was, and her love for him killed her."

Leia's teacher closed his eyes tightly. "The Jedi have always warned against attachments, Leia. Beings whose love attaches them to something often find that hatred easily springs up toward those who threaten their attachments...Perhaps the Jedi were not quite correct in warning against love. But those who love need to understand that their love can easily turn to hate..._That_ is what is important. Those who love need to learn to let go. The dead would prefer that you weep for them, not hate for them."

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and stared at Leia. "While you work against the Empire, ensure that you seek justice, not revenge. Revenge will set you down a dark path and end up destroying all that which you want vengeance for...Please be careful, Leia." His voice was almost a plea.

Looking into her mentor's eyes, Leia felt a chill go down her back. What had happened to him? Who was that boy? And why did Obi-Wan seem so haunted?

She took in a deep breath and bit her lip in thought. Finally, she spoke, telling him, "I will try, Obi-Wan."

"Thank you, Leia," Obi-Wan whispered.

****

Mon Mothma smiled. She had just convinced another group to join the Alliance. She had a gift, she knew. She was able to inspire and unite beings quite easily, which was why she had become the public face of the Rebellion. Garm Bel Iblis provided brilliant military strategies, and Bail Organa, who had managed to retain more of Palpatine's trust than Bel Iblis and Mothma had ever managed to receive, was able to access important resources and intelligence.

Mon Mothma disagreed with Bel Iblis on many issues. The Corellian was always advocating strong attacks against the Empire, while Mothma preferred to resort to diplomacy when possible, seeing no sense in pointless bloodshed.

At times, Bail was a little too cynical for Mothma's tastes, but his mediation between her and Bel Iblis kept the Alliance together, and all three of them agreed that the Empire had to be replaced by a republic. And despite their occasional disputes, Mothma cared for both men dearly.

She also cared for Bail's daughter. Leia had a great destiny ahead of her, Mothma was sure. Politics was the realm which called to that young woman, and she would be important even when a republic was reinstated.

Mon Mothma couldn't wait until the Empire fell.

****

Vader was taking out his frustration on a trio of training droids. But their intensive programming in lightsaber duels was no match for his anger, and soon all their lightsabers were on the floor, their severed mechanical limbs lying on the ground beside those extinguished weapons.

Palpatine was blaming _him_ for the Rebels' actions, threatening to take Sun away from him unless Vader crushed the Rebels or demonstrated Sun's progress in the Dark Side.

But Vader felt a strangely deep connection with the boy—he knew that if he forced use of the Dark Side upon the boy, the boy would run away...He was torn between following his master and his...what? His instincts? His...feelings?

Vader's mood darkened. His thoughts were taking a dangerous turn.

In anger, he used the Force to sweep the droid remnants against the wall, which they hit with a loud noise before falling to the ground.


	17. Mercy and the Suns

Leia tried to keep her face pleasant and her annoyance curbed. She had come to Ralltiir to bring medical and military supplies to the Alliance-supporting Ralltiiri High Council, which was finding itself in desperate need of them, for there was an Imperial blockade in place.

The problem for Leia was that she had been accosted by Lord Tion. He was handsome with his brown hair and eyes, certainly, but Leia knew he had been killing suspected Alliance supporters right and left, and she was sickened by the way he was fawning over her. At least he had let her land on the planet.

The Imperial officer continued talking. "My dear, the Tarkin Doctrine is a blessing for the galaxy. Rule through fear of force—"

Leia tuned the noble out, watching a wary pair of Ithorians walking by. Humans were the native species of Ralltiir, but Ithorians and Wookiees had immigrated there. Relations between humans and aliens had been shaky ever since the Emperor had begun tightening his hold on the galaxy. Anti-alien prejudices were spreading among humans like wildfire, and there was nothing Leia could do to stop it. That wouldn't, however, prevent her from trying. Smiling, she gave a small half-wave to the Ithorians, who looked surprised and walked away faster. A suspicious group of Stormtroopers watched them move away.

She detected a slight frown tug at Tion's lips, but he didn't miss a beat. No, he just continued rambling on.

Tion was hurting commerce for those on the Perlemian Trade Route, and he wasn't even letting relief organizations through his blockade on the Ralltiir system. Leia hoped her supplies would help, but it would be tricky getting them to the Ralltiir High Council, as the members of the council were presently in prison camps. How long it would be before they were killed, Leia didn't know. But she hoped she could get aid to them before it was too late.

Taking a deep breath, Leia smiled sweetly at the Emperor's task force leader. "Lord Tion, I wish to mingle among the Ralltiiri and see if I can discover anything about the Rebels for you...If we could meet again by my ship in two hours..."

"Of course, my dear. They would be more likely to talk to you than me, that is for certain...Just try not to stray into the marshes—there are some nasty beasts out there that would love to have a beautiful woman for a meal."

"You have nothing to fear, Lord Tion," Leia replied with a smile. _Shoot me now_, she thought.

As Tion left with his escort of Stormtroopers, Leia glanced nervously at her ship. This would be tricky—though she had wanted more time, she hadn't asked for it for fear of arousing his suspicion. She would have to be quick.

****

It had been weeks since Mara had come to see him, and Sun felt lonely.

Vader had been around, of course, but he had been distant...He seemed almost reluctant about something, but he hadn't been sharing information about what that something was.

Sun had been watching a lot of holovision when Vader wasn't around, as he had managed to bypass some of the channel restrictions Vader had placed on the machine. Now, he could watch some channels which didn't just glorify the Empire. As he did so, however, he reflected on how strange human mating practices were. They weren't assigned mates...and...well...when it came to clothing—

The door whisked open, revealing Vader.

Sun flicked the holovision off with the Force, sitting up straight and looking at the dark man. He hesitated for a moment before tilting his head. That was called looking curious, wasn't it?

"Have I told you about the Jedi?"

Sun felt Curiosity smack him in the face. The Jedi were a taboo subject all around the galaxy, which he had discovered on failing to find anything of significance about them on the Holonet. He shook his head in response to Vader's question, feeling a glimmer of pride at how easily the movement had come to him. He really _was_ learning!

"The Jedi were misguided souls, murderers...They killed my wife," the dark man said in a low voice.

Sensing a glimmer of falsehood, Sun stared at the dark man. He sent a Force tendril toward Vader, only to be thrown violently out of the dark man's mind.

Still, despite the anger which simmered beneath the surface of Vader's mind, his voice remained calm. "It was Palpatine that saved me from them. I will save _you_ from them. And perhaps one day, Sun, you will also save someone from the Jedi."

Sun felt confusion come over him. He could feel pain emanating from Vader, and he felt a tinge of pity.

"The Sith do not need pity," Vader growled, having picked up on his feelings. "The Sith need only the Dark Side. Remember that."

Sun was puzzled as he watched Vader walk out. What was _that_ all about?

****

Vader mentally cursed himself. He was losing his mind, losing control of his emotions. A Sith Lord was always supposed to be in control.

Blast Qui-Gon!

He fingered his lightsaber in frustration. Before he had gone in to see Sun, the ghost of Qui-Gon had appeared before him. He had felt pain, hope, wonder, frustration, anger, fear—so many things...A Sith was not supposed to _feel_ so many things!

Qui-G—_Jinn,_ he corrected himself mentally, distancing himself—had tried to warn him away from his dark path, had tried to convince him to leave the boy alone...Jinn had reminded him of what had happened with his wife, and the pity in his eyes had nearly driven Vader mad.

How _dare_ that Jedi come back from his grave to reprimand _him_! Where was he when Vader had actually _needed_ his guidance? Certainly not with him!

Vader felt his face flush. He had run away from Qui-Gon Jinn like a coward, and Darth Vader was _not_ a coward.

He tried to calm himself. He was going to train Sun in the ways of the Sith, and a long-dead Jedi was not going to change that.

****

Leia didn't know whether to speak praise or curses. Some Alliance supporters had been able to break through a line of Imperial troops, and the place was in turmoil. With the help of some of the Rebels who had been waiting on her ship, she had been able to get all the supplies where they should be. A few of the Rebels had blaster burns from the fighting that was going on, but they were all alive, which was what mattered. But now Leia was having trouble getting back to the _Tantive IV_.

She stepped over the body of a dead Rebel soldier, freezing as she felt his hand clasp her ankle. Not so dead, then.

"Miss," the man gasped. "Please, help me."

Leia's trained eyes gazed over his body. He had been hit pretty badly in the side by a blaster bolt and had a big gash on his forehead, but with the proper medical attention he would probably live.

She squinted through the blaster smoke, trying to find someone she knew. She couldn't see anyone; she would have to help the man alone.

Kneeling down beside the wounded human, she spoke to him. "I can't carry you to my ship...Can you walk if you lean on me?"

The man squeezed his eyes closed. "I'm a Rebel, ma'am...I don't want to endanger you."

"So am I. Now, do you think you can do it?"

The Rebel's eyes opened in surprise, and a smile actually spread across his face. "I have to."

Leia helped him to his feet, and they finally managed to get to her ship. Tion was waiting there, talking on a comlink, and Leia froze. _Shavit._ He'd seen her.

Lord Tion's eyes narrowed in suspicion, and after he finished talking on the comlink, he spoke. "Miss Organa, who is that?"

Thinking quickly, Leia replied, "One of my bodyguards. He got caught in some of the crossfire, I'm afraid."

Tion gazed at the man's face. Blood trickled down the Rebel's forehead, and Leia _knew_ that Tion was going to recognize him.

But his disheveled appearance must have thrown Tion off, as he nodded in acceptance. "It looks like he needs medical attention. Unfortunately, you will have to go off-planet for that. I am sorry to see you go, but it would be best if you return home. You might as well do your banking on Alderaan for a while, my dear. Ralltiir is unstable right now due to these pesky little Dekk flies."

Leia held in a sigh of relief. Ralltiir was famous for its banking industry, and it appeared Tion had believed her excuse for coming to the planet.

"Thank you, Lord Tion."

"You're welcome, my dear. You will receive clearance to go past the blockade." He kissed the top of her hand. Leia resisted the urge to gag.

****

Vader came in a few days later with an ominous air about him.

As the Sith Lord entered, Sun set down the datapad he was looking at. His tutoring droid stood by quietly.

"Have you been practicing levitation?" the dark man queried.

Sun hesitated for a moment before nodding. He had practiced a little bit, though he had probably not done so as much as Vader would have liked.

"Lift the datapad," the Sith Lord instructed.

That was easy enough. Sun reached out to the Force and brought the datapad into the air.

"What are you feeling?"

The youth stared at the dark man for a minute before giving a slow shrug. He was feeling calm, at peace—how was he supposed to express that to Vader?

He felt Vader's anger begin to rise, and the dark man used the Force to snatch the datapad out of the air. "Your peace may do you well in levitating a datapad, but when you are against a real opponent in the heat of battle, such a method is useless. Follow me."

Catching with the Force the datapad that Vader was dropping, Sun slowly got to his feet. Opakwa watched him go.

****

Vader was merciless with the boy. He slashed, feinted, stabbed—the boy had to learn or be killed.

He felt hurt and shock emanating from Sun. The boy just didn't understand. Anger brought power. The _Dark Side_ brought power.

He aimed a mighty blow at Sun's shoulder. The youth blocked it, his arms shaking with fatigue; he was unaccustomed to such viciousness.

"The Dark Side will give you strength if you only let it, Sun. Reach out to your anger—allow it to fill you."

But he felt no anger from Sun. He felt concentration, exhaustion—no emotions for the Dark Side to claim.

"I slaughtered a tribe of Tusken Raiders much like yours," Vader said as he made a feint for Sun's side.

He felt a flicker of something from the boy, but it was soon extinguished. Encouraged, he continued. "They captured my mother and tied her up. They killed her. And I killed them. The men, the women, the children...I took my lightsaber and slashed their throats. One of the women begged at my feet to spare the life of her and her child. I killed them both."

The youth's anger flared, and soon Vader actually found himself being backed up by Sun's onslaught. This boy was powerful, just as he had known he would be.

"Your anger is making you strong. Hold on to it, Sun. Touch the Dark Side."

For a moment, Vader felt he had cemented his hold on the boy. But then the boy lightened his attack, switching over to a numb defense.

Frustrated and wanting to teach a lesson, Vader increased the strength of his attacks. A blow to the right, then a blow to the left, and then one last slice—

Sun's saber and right hand fell to the floor.

Mouth agape, Sun fell to his knees and clutched his hand, clenching his eyes closed. Finally, he looked up at Vader, his lip trembling. Vader saw a tear trickle down the boy's face before he ran from the room.

With a strange sense of self-doubt, Vader stared down at his mechanical right hand. What had he done?

****

Sun wasn't supposed to go to Mara's quarters. He wasn't even supposed to know where they were. But he did. And so that was where he went.

He reached out, found her presence, and then used the Force to let himself into her room.

She was sitting on her couch, staring at a datapad. Upon hearing him come in, she looked up.

Sun felt shock hit him. Her face was a mess of healing gashes and bruises, and she appeared more tired than he had ever seen her.

Sun made a demanding hand movement that he wasn't even sure _he_ understood.

Mara stood up in surprise. "What are you doing here, Sun?? You're not supposed to be here. You need to leave." She never wasted much time with words.

Sun shook his head, accompanying the movement with a Tusken gesture. Through the Force, he sent an image of her appearance to her.

"It doesn't matter. You have to leave."

But he stood his ground. He was not going to leave until she spoke to him.

Sensing his determination, Mara Jade sighed. "I failed a mission, all right? Now _go_."

Sun made a human gesture that meant "continue." Opakwa would be proud.

"I'm not supposed to talk about it. Please, just leave."

He wanted her to tell him more...He _needed_ her to tell him more. He _pushed_ his feelings toward her with the Force.

Mara looked down at the floor for a few moments, seemingly in thought. Finally, she spoke. "I guess you can't tell anyone, can you? I'll tell you, but then you have to leave...I was trying to secure some supplies for the Emperor's new superweapon..." Sun sent a curious Force tendril toward her, and she continued. "It's called the Death Star...It's a moon-sized space station with enough firepower to destroy an entire planet..." She hesitated. "I don't—I don't think the Emperor should be destroying planets, but he is my master, and I must obey him, Sun."

Sun stared at her. There was more, he knew. He also knew that she didn't want to tell him, but she seemed to need someone to talk to, and she knew he was determined.

"My master punished me..." She gazed up at him. "I deserved his punishment. I should not have failed the Emperor. He has given me a life...You owe him, too."

Sun made a strong gesture of disagreement. He owed Palpatine nothing...He owed _Vader_ nothing...They were both just trying to use him—for what, exactly, he wasn't certain of, but he knew that they were bad men. If they were building planet-destroyers, then it was likely that all they wanted him for was to kill people. He didn't want to kill people like they did...He didn't want to be like them.

"What happened to your hand?" Mara asked suddenly. She looked concerned.

Sun gazed down at his arm. He had been subconsciously clenching it above where his wrist had once been.

He sent an image toward her of Vader, a flash of red, and then sudden pain.

She hissed air out through her teeth. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Tentatively, Sun tried to give her a smile. Ignoring the pain and the light-headed feeling he was having, he reached out with his left hand to touch her shoulder as a short good-bye. Then he was gone.


	18. Technology and the Suns

The Rebel soldier was recovering in medical facilities on Alderaan, and in a few hours, Leia intended to talk to him with her father and Obi-Wan. She wanted to learn what the Rebel knew...If he knew anything at all.

Leia's father had been rather upset upon hearing of the danger Leia had faced, but Obi-Wan was succeeding in calming him down.

"You can't protect your daughter from everything, Bail," the Jedi was saying, his voice calm. "If she is to help the Rebel Alliance, then she will have to face danger…Unfortunately, that is the way it must be."

Her father's eyes were resting on the floor as he tried to regain his composure. He shifted while he replied, "I know, Obi-Wan, but I just wish she would be more careful…"

Leia rolled her eyes. Her mentor saw the action, and his eyes twinkled at her. In amusement, he told Bail, "She's her father's daughter, I'm afraid."

Bail Organa's eyes snapped up to the Jedi's face, and the Jedi gave a strange wince. In a cold voice, Bail said, "Never say that, Obi-Wan. _Never_."

Confused, Leia watched her father stand up and leave the sitting room.

"What was that?" she asked in puzzlement.

Obi-Wan sighed. He rubbed his hand over the coarse hair on his chin. "I am not the one to tell you, Leia. You should go talk to him."

****

After hearing a knock on his bedroom door, Bail considered ignoring the person behind it, but he knew he couldn't hide forever. The damage was done, and he had to clean up after himself.

"Come in," he said reluctantly.

Leia, beautiful Leia, the sweet girl who was meant to be _his_ daughter and _not_ the daughter of that monster, entered his room. She looked concerned, and Bail knew he must talk at last. The time had come.

"There is something I must tell you, Leia," Bail said quietly. He looked down at his hands, rubbing his forefingers together. He missed Breha. She would have been much better than him at this conversation.

Curiosity—and a hint of fear—gleamed in Leia's eyes. "What is it, Father?"

Bail let out a loud sigh before biting his lip. "You know I love you, don't you, Leia?"

The girl—no, she was a woman now, wasn't she?—crinkled her brow. "Of course I do."

"I have needed to tell you this for a while, but I just haven't had the heart..." He _still_ didn't have the heart, but he had no choice. Swallowing, trying to break down the lump in his throat, Bail whispered, "You're adopted, Leia."

There was a long and quiet pause, like that experienced when a man filled with vitality comes upon a man recently dead. Each moment was agonizing, suspenseful, terrifying. But finally Leia spoke.

"I guess..." she began tentatively, "I've always really known. I mean, I don't really look like you and Mother..." She moved forward to touch Bail's shoulder. "But Father..."

"Yes, Leia?" the man replied in a strained voice, his eyes averted. He had withheld the truth from her for so long—how could look at her?

"In all the ways that matter, you are my father. And that's what counts."

The words were simple, but they meant the galaxy to Bail. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to hold back a few rogue tears. "Thank you, Leia." In a strangled voice, he whispered again, "Thank you."

****

He had fled, of course.

He couldn't live that life any longer. He might not have ever really belonged with the Tusken Raiders, but he had never really belonged with the Dark Side either.

Sometimes on Tatooine, before he had truly understood what the twin suns were, he had contemplating traveling past—and maybe even _to_—the suns. He had thought that everything would change if he did one of those two things.

And they had. But they hadn't changed for the better.

Tusken Raiders respected the power of the suns. The suns could bleach bones, provide light, kill a being...Sun knew now that he could never actually travel to them unless he wanted to burn to death. But that didn't stop him from wishing he could.

Life on Coruscant was nothing like life with the Tatooinian suns. Tatooine was either light or dark, depending on the time of day. Coruscant always had a dark feel to it, yet it possessed more lights than the eyes could count. The Imperial Palace retained the same feel. He knew he did not belong in that darkness.

Out of desperation, he found his way to a place he suspected Opakwa would call "seedy." It was the establishment the black-haired human had told him to go to—the _Drunkard's Delight—_and many of its denizens were wearing the types of clothing and doing the types of things that his tutoring droid had warned him against. The massive influx of words and emotions that he could hear and sense from the patrons frightened him, but he stayed nonetheless. He felt as if he needed to be there, as if he were fated to be there.

After gazing around the room, Sun realized he didn't know what he was looking for. He reached out to the Force, searching the place, sifting through emotions, and finally focusing on a pair of beings near the back of the—he tried searching his vocabulary—cantina.

One of them was large and furry and grumbling at his human partner, who was waving a comlink around and chastising him in return. There was a strange Force aura around them that identified them as both dangerous and trustworthy. Though the feeling was strange, it comforted him.

Sun, not even thinking about what he was doing, walked over toward the pair. He stopped a few feet in front of their table with his right hand behind his back, finally realizing that he didn't know what he was doing or what he was supposed to do next...

The human stopped waving around the device, instead fixing him with a stare. "What are you looking at, kid? Haven't you ever seen a broken comlink before?" The man threw a glare at his companion.

Sun focused his gaze on the comlink. He could fix it. Not even thinking, he reached out and snatched it away, placing it on the table so he could work on it with his left hand.

"Hey!" exclaimed the human in surprise and anger.

The furry being growled and began to stand up, perhaps in an attempt to punish Sun by ripping off a limb or two, but the human, upon seeing Sun trying to tinker with the comlink, waved the beast back to his seat. "Hold on, Chewie. It doesn't look like he's gonna do anything harmful. Let's give him a chance."

Chewie growled something under his breath.

The human snorted in return. "I know it ain't likely he'll be able to fix it after you busted it, but it can't hurt to let him—" He cut off as Sun handed him the suddenly-working comlink.

The man examined the machine and whistled softly under his breath. "Stang, kid, you actually fixed it. And you didn't even have tools."

Sun gave him a slow smile. He had no physical tools, but he _did_ have the Force. But the man didn't need to know that. It was just a small detail, really.

"What's a kid like you doing in a hole like this? You looking for a job, or something?"

Sun just stood there looking at him. Even if did talk, he wouldn't know what to say.

"Can you work on ships, too?"

Tentatively, Sun nodded. Working on ships was good work—it cleared his mind, made him forget the past. When he worked on ships, all he could think of was his present task. That was what he wanted.

"Tell you what, kid," the human began, "you come and take a look at the _Millennium Falcon_. If you can do anything with her, then I'll consider letting you tag along with Chewie and me. Your pay won't be much, but if you turn out to be some kind of miracle worker, maybe we'll talk."

Sun slowly—and almost guiltily—brought his right arm forward from behind his back.

Chewie snuffled softly, and the human groaned. "I am _not_ taking on a charity case. With one hand, what can he—"

The furry being stood up and enveloped a surprised Sun in a hug. Concentrating, Sun used the Force to translate what Chewie was saying. [—cub has demonstrated his skill. We must at least give him more of an opportunity to prove himself. His wound seems recent, and he does not appear to desire to speak—]

"All the more reason to leave him behind," the man interjected.

Chewie bared his fangs. [Let the cub prove himself.]

The human sighed. "All right, Chewie, all right."

****

The smuggler hated to admit it, but the kid was a mechanical genius. He was able to navigate the _Falcon_'s mass of wires with ease, one hand or not. Before long, half the _Falcon_'s systems were running better, and Han had to exercise all his strength in refraining from trying to whack the smug look off his Wookiee copilot's face.

The kid was still busy working his miracles, so Han finally cleared his throat. Once he had the boy's attention, he grumbled, "All right, kid. You're aboard. I'm Han Solo, this is Chewbacca, and if he's right, you aren't going to be talking any time soon, so I'm just gonna call you Kid...All right?"

Kid nodded before turning his attention back to the ship.

"Don't even say it," Han warned his partner before walking toward the cockpit.

Chewie chuckled softly.

****

After the hospital room was cleared out and swept of listening devices, Bail spoke to the Rebel soldier. "I am one of the Three. My daughter saved your life. This," he gestured at Obi-Wan, "is a Jedi. Please talk to us."

The soldier turned his head to gaze at Obi-Wan, who moved his robe aside to reveal a lightsaber. The man looked at each of them in turn, searching their face, observing their posture, staring into their eyes. It was as if he were filing away every aspect of their character before deciding whether they were trustworthy. Finally, he seemed satisfied, and he began to talk. "I have important information for the Alliance stored in my brain through hypnotic imprint...I do not know what the information is, only that I have it."

Leia frowned. "Hypnotic imprint? How are we supposed to retrieve—"

Bail smiled at his adopted daughter. "You forget, Leia, that we have a Jedi among us."

The princess blushed and looked down at the ground. Far too often, she forgot the power of the Force. Obi-Wan was always chastising her about it. For her father to chastise her about it made it worse.

Bail nodded at his Jedi friend. "If you would, please, Obi-Wan."

The Jedi stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on the Rebel's forehead. After Obi-Wan concentrated for a few moments, the soldier began to speak with a glazed look on his face. It was obvious that he wasn't lucid while doing so.

"The Emperor is building a new weapon called the Death Star," the soldier said in monotone. "It is a moon-sized space station with enough power to destroy an entire planet. The Tarkin Doctrine is to be implemented in full. The threat is real, and the Empire cannot be redeemed. The Death Star plans must be retrieved."

Leia exchanged a look with her father. What lengths wouldn't the Empire go to?


	19. Meeting of the Suns

Vader was irate. The boy was still gone, and Palpatine was punishing him for the boy's absence by giving him an abundance of ludicrously small missions. He _had_ to find Sun, and he couldn't do it if Palpatine kept giving him these pointless assignments.

He gathered together the greatest Bounty Hunters he could find, though he hated resorting to such low measures. The Emperor would not let him search on his own, however, so he had to settle for using probe droids and Bounty Hunters. Hopefully, the skilled Boba Fett might be able to find the youth.

"If you kill the boy, then you will be fortunate if you're not dead within a day," he warned them. He made sure to fix Fett in particular with a warning gaze.

****

Eventually, Bail and Leia invited Lord Tion to Alderaan for a "diplomatic" dinner. The meal was not important, however; they simply wanted to find out more information concerning the Death Star.

They tried just to stroke Tion's ego at first. Leia complimented his new hairstyle, Bail extolled his taste in wines, and both remarked on his choice of clothing...Finally, however, they managed to encourage him to say a few things that actually mattered to them.

"Grand Moff Tarkin is truly a brilliant man. I trust you will keep this confidential, but he is working on a superweapon that will soon awe the galaxy..."

"Has he already built this superweapon?" Leia asked casually, exchanging a look with her father.

"Well, the plans are being moved to the Imperial vaults..." A smile spread across Tion's face. "I hope they use it to its full extent. There are several planets in great need of pacifying; Ralltiir is merely one of them."

Leia's nostrils began to flare out of anger, and Bail tried to send her a warning look.

"By pacify, you mean kill, don't you?" Leia was unable to keep the edge out of her voice.

"Of course," Tion said smoothly, though he seemed a bit surprised at Leia's harsh demeanor.

"You're willing to kill millions of innocents with your wretched Death Star just so your head of government will have fewer prob—"

But Tion's eyes had widened at the code name "Death Star." Realizing that she had inside information and was playing him as a fool, he grabbed her shoulders. "You are under arrest in the name of—"

But Leia wasn't going to be arrested without a fight, and she wrestled with Lord Tion. Bail uneasily watched the struggle for a few moments before he tried to step in, but Tion was pulling his gun, and he was forced to back away.

The blaster went off, and Bail fell to the floor in an effort to avoid the bolt. When he looked up, Leia was blinking down in confusion at a dead Tion. Amazingly enough, Tion had accidentally killed himself.

Leia finally gasped out, "Father, this is my first act of open Rebellion."

"It was self-defense, dear," Bail tried to reassure her, though his heart was racing. He had almost lost Leia, and—now what? What was to happen?

"I'm a true enemy of the Empire now," the young woman whispered.

"Leia," Bail said gently, "I have an idea."

****

Bail's servant Tarrik moved Lord Tion's body to an Alderaanian gaming preserve. A hunting accident was "arranged," and the true events of the dinner incident were hidden. Fortunately, an investigation into the incident failed to implicate the Organas, so they seemed to be in the clear.

A few weeks later, Bail said to his daughter, "Leia, I'm going to send you to Toprawa."

"For Operation Skyhook?" Leia guessed. Operation Skyhook was the mission to Toprawa to retrieve the Death Star plans. The wounded Rebel had given them a time frame as to when someone was needed at Toprawa, and Leia and her father intended to follow it.

"Correct...I am sending Obi-Wan with you."

Leia didn't know whether to be glad or upset. It would be nice to have the Jedi along, but was her father just sending him to protect her? She didn't _need_ a Jedi bodyguard!

"I think it's for the best, Leia," Bail said softly.

At that moment, Obi-Wan began to walk into the room. Taking in a breath to cleanse herself of her frustration, Leia smiled at the Jedi in welcome and admitted, "I guess you're right, Father."

"I don't think we should take the _Tantive IV_," the Jedi said quietly as he moved toward them. "I think we need a faster ship which is unconnected to Alderaan and the Royal House."

Bail cleared his throat. "Obi-Wan has requested a smuggler for this job, Leia, and I have reluctantly complied. We have a few people on the look-out for a suitable one who has a fast ship and won't ask too many questions...You will receive a pair of droids unconnected to me that will serve you on your journey. The astromech can store the plans, while the protocol droid can act as an interpreter, should you need it. Raymus was kind enough to provide them both." Captain Raymus Antilles was Bail's brother-in-law.

Leia nodded in understanding. "Thank you, Father."

"No, Leia," Bail corrected, "thank _you_."

****

Han Solo was wiping his hands on a rag. He, Chewie, and Kid had been working on the _Falcon_, but he had an incoming message that he had to take. "Solo here," he grunted after slapping the console.

"Glad to see you're still alive, you pirate!"

Han grinned at the sound of his friend's voice. "No kidding, Lando. It's been, what, years?"

"I don't know if it's been _that_ long, but I guess that's close enough."

"Uh huh. So, what's a space pirate like you wanting?"

"Hey!" Lando protested. "I'm respectable now."

"Uh huh," Han said disbelievingly.

"It's true!" Lando Calrissian insisted. "Anyway, I owe you a favor—"

"—or two," Han inserted.

"I'm returning your _favor_, Han," Lando said smoothly. "I'm too busy at Bespin to take a job that's being offered, and I was wanting to know if you're free?"

"Depends on the price, Lando," Han returned. "And you're not really returning the favor, are you? You're being paid to find someone for this job."

Lando chuckled. "I might be getting a few credits out of it...Your price is pretty handsome, though, Han. Don't ask any questions, and your debt to Jabba will be repaid, with some left over."

Han raised his eyebrow. "Avoiding Imperial entanglements, are they?"

"No questions allowed, Han."

"All right, all right. I'll take the job. But you still owe me."

Ignoring his last statement, Lando queried, "How's Chewbacca?"

"He's doing fine. He's back working on the _Falcon_ right now."

"I'm surprised she hasn't been thrown in a scrap yard yet with the way you handle her."

"I've done a lot more with her than you ever did," Han retorted.

"I would've done more if you hadn't taken her off my lot."

"I won her fair and square!" Han protested.

"That's still debatable," Lando snorted. Casually, he ventured, "I hear that you're traveling around with a kid these days."

Han rolled his eyes. "Well, you heard right."

"Are the other rumors about him true as well?"

"Yes," Han grunted, sounding slightly annoyed. "I have a temperamental ship, a copilot no one understands but me, and a one-armed mechanic that's mute! Any more questions?"

Lando chuckled. "No more questions, Han—this channel isn't very secure. Tomorrow, at 1100 hours, a contact with information about your assignment will meet you at that place where we had those excellent nerf steaks."

"Where we cooked some nerfs is closer to it," Han muttered beneath his breath. Louder, he said into the communications unit, "All right. See you later, Lando."

"Chewie!" Han called out. "Get your furry behind in here."

****

A few days later, standing in a secluded part of Alderaan, Leia was staring at a landing ship. "I'm surprised it's not collapsing into a million pieces right now," she muttered.

Obi-Wan hid a smile. Various sources had testified that the _Millennium Falcon_ looked like a hunk of junk but packed a lot of punch. Certainly no one would expect Alderaanian royalty to be riding aboard it.

When the ship had landed, the boarding ramp was lowered. A Wookiee and a smuggler with a cocky swagger came down to greet them. To decrease suspicion, Bail had decided not to see Leia and Obi-Wan off. The astromech droid they had borrowed from Raymus—Artoo-Detoo—beeped quietly, prompting a curious look from his golden protocol droid companion, See-Threepio.

"Why, hello, miss," the man said with a lop-sided grin, prompting a scowl from Leia. "I'm Han Solo, and this is my copilot Chewbacca. The beauty behind you is the _Millennium Falcon_."

"Beauty?" Leia snorted. "More like a flying trash can."

Glaring, Solo retorted, "Well, you don't look so hot yourself, sister." He gestured at his ship. "She may not look like the yachts you're used to flying in, but she's outrun a lot of Imperial ships in her day."

"As long as she's fast, appearances don't matter," Obi-Wan inserted, gazing calmly at Leia, who ducked her head.

"Well, she's fast, old man. Chewie and I have done some good tinkering with her, but the mechanic we have now is a mechanical wizard. You probably won't see him much, though. He's mute and doesn't take to strangers." The smuggler began walking into his ship. Leia, Obi-Wan, and the two droids followed.

****

Kid was tinkering with the food dispenser. Chewie had become impatient with it earlier, hitting it and tearing at a few wires. Now, it was only spitting out Gamorrean snack-crackers. Why the _Falcon_ was even equipped with such food was beyond Kid's ability to comprehend, but they smelled rather nasty, and it was a problem he wanted to fix quickly.

He finished the task with a sense of satisfaction and then went to look at the hyperdrive, which had been the last item on his agenda for a while. For a few moments, he stared down at the mess that Han called a hyperdrive. Then he backed away. There were some things that not even a miracle worker could fix.

He lifted his head, hearing the noise of people coming on board the ship. Passengers.

Uneasily, he looked around before moving toward the back of the ship. He had a strange feeling in his stomach.

Trying to clear his head, he attempted to concentrate on tinkering more with the ship. Sometimes, he knew exactly what to do to fix things; other times, he had to use the Force to help him a little. But he was getting to where he had to rely on the Force less and less, though he still needed it for the two-handed jobs.

Before long, he felt the kick that signaled their entrance into hyperspace. A little while later, while he was in the refresher, he felt the Force tugging at him. He washed his left hand, using a towel to wipe off a little of the water he'd spilled on his gray jumpsuit. Then he left the 'fresher to take a quick look at the passengers.

He hadn't taken very many steps before his entire body stiffened. A white-haired human male was standing next to a brown-haired human female, but the humans weren't what caught his eye.

The female—she was holding a blue lightsaber.

A remote hovered around the girl, letting out low-powered beams that she blocked despite the blast shield obstructing her vision.

What was happening? Who were they?

****

Obi-Wan was instructing Leia on various dueling stances, but his attention was only half on the task. The Force had been trying to tell him something ever since he had entered the ship.

Finally, he took his eyes off Leia and the remote. Nearby, there stood a boy—perhaps Leia's age?—with sandy blond hair and vivid blue eyes...Obi-Wan felt a shiver crawl up his spine. Those eyes...He _knew_ those eyes.

The orbs in question met his own for just a second before the boy bolted toward the back of the ship.

"Son, wait!" Obi-Wan called after the boy.

"Great," Han groaned, shaking his head. "You've spooked him. What'd you have to go and do that for, old man? Ah, kriff," he muttered, throwing Obi-Wan an evil look.

Obi-Wan watched Han disappear after the youth. His heart was pounding.

****

Kid trembled. He didn't know what to do, where to go. Those two knew how to use the Force. Were they going to take him to the dark man? He couldn't go back—he _couldn't_!

He jumped when he heard Han speak. "Kid."

Kid looked at the smuggler questioningly, unable to hide his timidity.

"You all right? That's just a harmless old man back there. He's not going to do any harm. He needs us to pilot the _Falcon_ somewhere for him."

But Kid was still scared. He didn't want to go back to Vader and the Empire. There was so much death there. Han and Chewie, though they wouldn't admit it, killed only when they had to. They didn't take pleasure from death like Vader.

Kid knew that Han could sense that he wasn't going to be able to get through to him. The smuggler sighed, moved a hand through his hair, and left after saying, "Don't worry, Kid. Chewie and I won't let them hurt you."

****

"How is he?" Obi-Wan inquired.

Leia had shut off her lightsaber. When Obi-Wan had given it to her, he had told her that it belonged to her father, Anakin Skywalker. Every time she held it, she felt strange, as if she were touching a forbidden piece of the past.

"Well, the kid is scared of weird things. He should get over it eventually," Han shrugged.

"I'll go talk to him," Leia stated, leaving before the smuggler could protest.

She found the boy working on some machine or another. Interestingly, he stiffened as she came closer. His back was facing her—had he heard her approach? She had thought she was moving quietly.

"I don't know what frightened you back there, but I'm sorry if it was me," Leia started. When the youth didn't give any indication of a reply, she continued. "I'm Leia, and that was Obi-Wan." She hesitated for a moment. "He's a Jedi."

At her last statement, the youth turned around. He seemed to be searching her face for signs of truth.

Encouraged, Leia asked, "What's your name?"

The youth stood frozen for a moment before looking down at the floor.

An image of two suns flashed into her mind, and she gasped. "You can use the Force?"


	20. Revelation for the Suns

Kid gazed at the human female in front of him for a few seconds before nodding. He _could_ use the Force...He didn't like to, but he could.

The white-haired human male chose that moment to enter. He held his hands up in a way that Kid knew was meant to show that he intended no harm. "Hello, there," he said warmly. "Where are you from, young one?"

Kid felt as if he were being pulled in two directions. Part of him was reminding him that this was a Force user and the situation thus required caution, but another part of him was telling him that these two humans were trustworthy and he had nothing to worry about.

But though looking at them warily, he considered the question that had been put to him. Where was he from?

He tentatively reached out to the Force, transmitting an image to the two humans of sand and suns and death and life. Then he sent another image to the two of noise and light and darkness. Finally, he sent a picture of hard metal and warm faces. He had no real home. He had lived on Tatooine, Coruscant, and the _Falcon_...But where did he really belong? Did he belong in any of those places?

He concentrated on the humans' faces, using the Force to help him pinpoint their exact emotions. The female seemed intrigued, while the male seemed surprised.

"Is it really you?" the male whispered.

But Kid simply stared at him in bewilderment.

****

Blue eyes...Force sensitive...Tatooine...It _must_ be him!

Obi-Wan reached up a hand, as if to touch the boy, but the youth flinched backwards as if burned. "Who were your parents?" the Jedi whispered. And why was he afraid of being touched?

The boy hesitated, but then Obi-Wan saw in his head two proud Tusken Raiders.

"Luke," Obi-Wan rasped disbelievingly. "Luke Skywalker."

****

Kid contemplated running toward the cockpit for refuge, but after looking closely at the Jedi's face, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He flashed an image of the Tatooinian suns into the Jedi's head, and the Jedi whispered, "Light."

The female finally spoke. "Obi-Wan, do you know him?"

The man turned to her. "I thought I had lost him...I thought Vader would have turned him..."

Kid flinched at the dark man's name, and the Jedi looked at him.

"Darth Vader was my apprentice until he turned to the Dark Side," the man said quietly. "Now, he is nothing but a monster."

Kid immediately found himself wanting to agree with the human, but then a strange feeling tugged at him. Was that _all _Vader truly was? A monster?

And then Kid felt himself wanting to talk, wanting to say that perhaps Vader still retained a glimmer of good, that perhaps there was hope for him yet, but he remained silent. How could he support such an argument? Vader was consumed by anger...He killed innocents...He felt no love for anyone...

"I held you both as babies," the man said. "You looked so much like your parents..."

"Obi-Wan, what are you saying?" the female queried. Kid thought she looked almost frightened.

"Baby Luke and Leia Skywalker," whispered the Jedi.

The female gasped, and Kid looked at her. "Are you saying we're siblings?" she sputtered.

The white-haired male nodded sadly before looking at Kid intensely. "Luke, can you forgive me for not saving you?"

Kid scratched his left leg nervously. What was this Jedi talking about?

The man—Obi-Wan—must have sensed his confusion, for he began to explain. "You two were separated at birth...Leia, you were taken to Alderaan to be raised by Bail Organa...Luke, I took you to Tatooine to be raised by your aunt and uncle...I was going to stay there to watch over you, Luke, but Leia was in danger, and I had to go protect her...By the time I returned to Tatooine, you had been taken by Tusken Raiders...I had to let you go, Luke, or risk falling to the Dark Side...Your mother, Padmé Skywalker, named you both right before she died...I wish the two of you could have met her."

Kid's eyes moved from one human to the other. His name was Luke Skywalker, and he had a sister? He rubbed his arm. It was all too much to take in.

"You probably need some time to think, young Luke," the man said quietly, "so Leia and I will return to saber practice." He turned to go, but the former Tusken Raider pulled on the sleeve of his robe.

After a few seconds of hesitation, the boy gave the man a one-armed hug. He felt it was the human thing to do.

****

Leia's head was spinning, and she knew she couldn't simply go back to saber practice, so instead she went to the cockpit to sit and think. How could she have had a sibling all this time? Why wasn't she ever told about it?

But despite the hurt she felt, there was a rightness in being told she had a brother. It was as if she had always known in the back of her mind, as if the Force had been connecting her to someone much like her and yet also very different.

She was only seated for a minute before the smuggler came in. She suspected the Wookiee had asked him to check on her.

"What do you want?" Leia asked quietly.

The rogue shrugged. "Just making sure you aren't hurting my ship."

The princess rolled her eyes. "I am quite familiar with ships, Captain. You have nothing to fear from me."

The man—Han Solo, wasn't it?—grinned and sat down beside her. "I guess you aren't exactly a rancor when it comes to threats."

Leia raised an eyebrow. "I can be quite a threat when I want to be."

Solo laughed. "I'm sure you can." Leia glared at him, and he queried, "So, what's wrong, Your Highness?"

Leia started. "How did you—"

"Look, I may not know any of that hocus pocus stuff, but I can tell royalty when I see it." The man looked smug.

"Oh, really?" Leia said, straightening with a glint in her eye. "And can you tell family when you see it?"

The man looked a little uneasy; it was obvious he didn't know what she was talking about—apparently, Chewbacca hadn't been very thorough in briefing his friend—but the smuggler didn't seem to want to back down from a challenge either. "Sure can, Your Worship," he retorted.

"Then did you know that I'm related to your one-armed mechanic?"

"Sure d—" he cut off. "_What_?"

Leia smirked. "Your clairvoyant powers have their limits, I see."

The smuggler stared at her incredulously. "You're joking, right?"

"No, I'm quite serious. You aren't as good as you think you are."

The man scowled. "Not that."

Leia decided to give the guy a break. "Apparently, we were twins separated at birth."

Rolling his eyes, Solo stood up. "I'll come back when you're being serious."

"I'm not lying to you, Captain. Obi-Wan says his name is Luke...Apparently, we're both Skywalkers."

Looking suspicious, the man queried, "That your last name?"

"It's his last name, I guess. But I would rather be known as Leia Organa than Leia Skywalker...I never knew my real parents."

"You and me both, sister," muttered Han Solo. He gazed at Leia for a moment before asking, "What's going to happen now with the kid?"

Leia shrugged. "I don't really know. Obi-Wan is more likely to know than I am."

He gave her a contemplative and almost sad look. "I do want the kid to be happy, you know. I have the feeling he's been through some rough times."

"With the Empire still in place, I doubt his times are going to get any better." Leia stared down at her hands. They were so different from the smuggler's. His had been roughened by working on his ship and wielding his blaster, but hers were smooth from mostly handling datapads and fine silverware...But Leia had the feeling that it wouldn't be long before her hands became rough, too. She was ready for it.

The smuggler placed his hands upon hers, and she looked up with a rebuke in her eyes that died unsaid.

"Somehow I get the feeling that you aren't going to let his times get much worse," he said softly.

Leia trembled for a few seconds before withdrawing her hands. "You're right, Captain Solo. I'll try to help him, and the galaxy, as much as I can." She stood up and left the cockpit. She could feel the man's eyes on her as she left. For some reason, knowing that he was watching her sent shivers down her spine.

****

Obi-Wan was coaching Leia in more lightsaber techniques when he noticed Luke come in and sit down. The boy watched them quietly, and Obi-Wan gave him a sad smile. "What happened to your arm?" he queried, though he was afraid he knew the answer.

An image flashed into the Jedi's mind of his former pupil dueling with Luke.

"I am sorry he hurt you, Luke," Obi-Wan said quietly. "Did he try to turn you to the Dark Side?"

When Luke just looked at him sadly, the Jedi queried further, "Did he try to get you to use your anger?"

The boy nodded.

"You do not have to use your anger, young one. The Jedi use the Light Side. If you are at peace, the Light Side will flow through you."

He could tell he had captured the boy's interest, so he continued talking. At this point, Leia shut down her lightsaber, quietly watching and listening. "Try to levitate my lightsaber, but let go of your anger, let go of your fears...Simply let the Force flow through you." He held the lightsaber out in his palm.

The youth looked at the lightsaber. Then a small grin spread across his face. The lightsaber lifted, but so did several other objects in the room, including the two droids.

Artoo squealed in surprise, and Threepio exclaimed, "Oh, my! Please, do put me down, sir. I simply detest flying!"

Obi-Wan could sense the youth's mischief through the Force, and he chuckled as he watched the boy send the protocol droid spinning throughout the room. As the astromech droid began to fly across the room, its squeal of surprise turned into a whistle of excitement. It seemed the small droid was willing to have a little fun.

Chewbacca roared in amusement. It seemed as if he had seen Jedi before, Obi-Wan noted with some interest, wondering if the Wookiee had come across Yoda on Kashyyyk.

Luke finally set all the objects down, much to Threepio's relief, and Obi-Wan tried to hide his grin. "Very good, young one. You have your sister's ability, it seems."

"Or I have his," Leia inserted. "It seems like he's stronger than I am."

"What matters is not potential but inner strength," Obi-Wan stated calmly. "It is more important to be able to resist the lure of the Dark Side than it is to be able to lift an entire ship in the air."

Upon seeing the interested glint in her brother's eye, Leia added quickly, "Which you shouldn't try any time soon, Luke."

The boy smiled.

****

They finally made it to Toprawa. If what Leia's father had told her was correct, the Red Hand Squadron was supposed to infiltrate the Imperial facility on Toprawa and transmit the stolen Death Star technical readouts to the _Falcon_. The technical readouts were incomplete, however, and while they were receiving the Toprawa transmission, supplemental plans were being beamed to them.

Leia wasn't quite sure whether to feel sad or triumphant. Receiving the Death Star plans would be a major accomplishment for the Rebellion, but this was basically a suicide mission for the Red Hand Squadron. She knew, however, that they were glad to die for such an important cause. Still, she wasn't exactly happy about it.

Soon, they were receiving the transmission. Artoo was hooked up to the ship so that they would have two copies of the plans, and he whistled softly as he received data.

"Come on, come on," Leia gritted, trying to will the transmission to go faster.

Chewbacca roared and pointed at a screen. Han moved to look at it. "Ah, Sith," the smuggler cursed. "Imperial Star Destroyer."

A voice came on the communications unit. "This is the _Immortal_. Unidentified freighter, you are suspected to be involved in Rebel activity. Prepare to be boarded."

"Not in my lifetime," Han muttered to himself. "Chewie, get ready for hyperspace and evasive maneuvers. This is gonna be a fun ride."

"We need to compute the coordinates to deliver the plans to the _Liberty—_" Leia protested.

"It ain't happening this time, Your Worshipfulness," the smuggler told her under his breath. "We need to make a brief jump first."

Suddenly the _Falcon_ was moving and the _Immortal_ was shooting. Chewbacca roared in excitement.

"Goodness gracious!" Threepio exclaimed. He wasn't a fan of excitement.

And then they were in hyperspace.

Looking smug, Han patted the console in front of him. "I told you she was a good ship."


	21. The Moon and the Suns

"Can we pull out of hyperspace now?" Leia asked, looking annoyed.

"Patience, Leia," Obi-Wan said gently.

"Give her another minute, then I'll do it," the smuggler said, leaning back.

Leia could tell he was just wanting to annoy her, so she tried hard to hide the fact that he was succeeding.

Artoo beeped in amusement, and Threepio looked down at him. "I think he's quite rude, Artoo."

Before long, they were out of hyperspace.

"Well, hurry up, Your Highness. Give us the coordinates to get these plans to the _Liberty_." Han looked at Leia expectantly.

"Watch out, flyboy," Leia hissed, her eyes narrowing.

When they finally entered hyperspace, everyone was quiet. When they finally exited hyperspace, Han took one look at the monitors and then cursed. "Looks like the _Immortal_ knew where we were going. Someone must have talked, and the _Liberty_ must have gone into hiding."

Leia bit her lip, looking out the viewport as Han began maneuvers to evade the _Immortal_.

"Please be careful, Captain Solo," pleaded the golden protocol droid.

His short domed friend blatted at him.

"It's back into hyperspace for us," Han muttered, ignoring the two droids.

Finally, they managed to escape the Imperial-class Star Destroyer once again by jumping to lightspeed. Artoo bleeped something rude-sounding to Threepio, receiving a golden fist to the head in return. Chewie barked softly.

"What now, sweetheart?" the smuggler queried.

Leia hesitated. She wanted to ask Obi-Wan for advice, but she knew this was her own decision. Her first impulse was to go to the new Rebel base on Yavin IV, but she needed to consider the matter more fully. Concentrating, she closed her eyes and reached out to the Force, letting it envelop her.

After about a minute, she opened her eyes. "I'm not sure why, but we need to go to Alderaan."

Han frowned. "Isn't that a little too conspicuous?"

Chewie roared his agreement.

"We need to do it," Leia insisted. "Don't ask me why."

"Whatever you say, Your Worship. I'm just paid to pilot."

****

Sometimes, Darth Vader had to exercise all his strength in the effort not to kill everyone around him. This was one of those times.

His men certainly knew it. The smell of death was practically in the air, and he hadn't actually killed anyone yet. It was more of an anticipatory feeling that pervaded the bridge than it was an acknowledgment of reality.

If it were possible to hold one's breath indefinitely, he was certain his crew would be doing it right now. As it was, some of them were breathing rather oddly.

It wasn't just the fact that he was angry that had everyone walking on pins and needles. No, the Emperor of the galaxy had also decided to pay a visit to the Death Star.

Vader wanted to be out pursuing Sun, but Palpatine had insisted that Vader join him on the planet-destroyer. Palpatine planned to turn the thievery of the Death Star plans into a trap for the Rebellion. His master had even claimed that Sun would come to the Death Star, but Vader highly doubted that. The boy would not be trying to come near Vader any time soon. He was certain of that.

Still, his master _was_ rarely wrong...But it wasn't like Vader had much of a choice in the matter. He had to remain on board the Death Star, and that was that.

****

Luke was proud that the _Falcon_ hadn't broken down on their many hyperspace jumps. The ship was so temperamental that sometimes an insect poking around in the wrong place could cause half its systems to shut down. Of course, Luke was slowly turning the metal hulk into a more reliable ship...Not that it was easy, particularly with all the cross-wiring Han and Chewie had done.

He had heard a weird buzz near the back of the ship which he wanted to check out, and he decided to go find the source. As he was walking, he heard a whir behind him, so he stopped and turned around. The little astromech droid—Artoo-Detoo—was following him.

He looked at the droid, which beeped back at him. Suddenly, he felt a strange kinship with this droid. Neither of them could truly communicate with most of the people they met. They could understand but not be truly understood. Certainly that golden droid who could translate Artoo-Detoo's beeps was unable to understand what the little droid truly intended.

He reached over and patted the little droid's dome. The droid beeped, and its mechanical arm reached out and pointed to Luke's right hand.

Luke mimed a lightsaber slashing off his arm, and the droid beeped sadly. He gestured toward the back of the ship and began walking. The droid, humming happily to itself, followed.

****

When Alderaan loomed before them, so did a strange small moon that Leia had never seen before.

"That's an odd place for a moon," Han commented.

"That's because it's not a moon," Obi-Wan said quietly. "It's the Death Star."

The smuggler's eyes widened. "_That's_ the Death Star? It's huge!"

"It has enough power to destroy an entire planet," Leia said, her frustration evident in her voice. "...And it's hovering above Alderaan."

The communications unit crackled to life. "Freighter, identify yourself and state your business, or you will be regarded as hostile and appropriate measures will be taken." A pair of TIE Fighters came up beside the _Falcon_. "Break from your escort, and you will also be considered hostile."

"Well, this is just great," Han muttered. Into the unit, he stated, "This is the YT-1300 Corellian freighter _Millennium Falcon._ She's got no cargo, only passengers."

"Please wait while your identification is examined."

Han turned to look at his passengers. "By the sound of things, we'll probably be boarded. We can alter the log and hide in the smuggling compartments, or we can try to escape. It's your choice."

The comm unit came back to life. "There is a look-out for all suspicious Corellian freighters. Keep your guns powered down, and prepare for boarding."

"Looks like we need to try to escape," Han muttered.

"Wait—" Obi-Wan protested, but the smuggler was already pulling the _Falcon_ into a barrel roll.

For a few seconds, Leia thought they would escape. That was before they got caught in the Death Star's tractor beam.

"_No!_" Leia exclaimed as the ship shuddered. "Do something!"

"I'm trying, sweetheart," the smuggler growled.

"It's no use," Obi-Wan said softly. He looked down at the ground. "We have to face him."

"Face who, old man?" Han queried as he tried to get his ship to respond to his touch. The tractor beam, however, seemed to be too much for the freighter, so he ceased his efforts.

"Darth Vader," the Jedi said absently.

"Oh, dear!" Threepio exclaimed, but he was drowned out by Chewie's roar.

Han held up his hands pleadingly. "All right, let's calm down. Now—"

"I have a plan," Obi-Wan stated. "Where are those compartments of yours?"

****

After the first search party left the ship, the ship's remaining occupants finally exited the compartments.

"If there were a few more of us, we probably wouldn't have all fit," Leia commented.

"Yeah, well, they ain't made for comfort," grumbled the smuggler. "What's the rest of your plan, old man?"

Obi-Wan gave him a small smile. "We're going to find out where the tractor beam is located. Then I'll take care of it."

"Of course you will," Han snorted.

They ambushed the scanning crew, though Han and Chewie went about it a little too loudly for Leia's tastes. After that, Han, Luke, and Leia began putting on Stormtrooper armor inside the ship.

Han raised an eyebrow. "Looks like you two are a little short for Stormtroopers."

"Very funny," Leia snapped. Her helmet didn't fit right, and she could barely see.

They left the _Falcon_, knocking out some Imperial officers in a nearby room.

"Plenty of computers around here," Han noted.

Artoo, not one to waste time, quickly plugged in to the nearest computer.

"He's found it, sir," Threepio said before long, his head tilted toward Obi-Wan. "On the screen are seven terminals, a power loss at any one of which will take the tractor beam out of commission."

The Jedi studied the information for a minute before taking in a deep breath. "I can do this alone; you should all stay here, where it's safe. Artoo, monitor the terminals. When the power loss comes, head to the ship as quickly as possible."

"Obi-Wan," Leia protested, "let us come with you."

Obi-Wan smiled. "You must be patient, Leia. Watch over the droids—the information Artoo carries is vital to the Rebellion. You know that." He turned to look at Luke, who was giving him a hard stare. "What is it, young one?"

Luke flashed an image of Vader into the minds of both Leia and Obi-Wan.

The Jedi gave the two siblings a sad look. "Yes, Vader is aboard this ship. That is why you two must remain here." He began to leave, but then he turned, sorrow written across his face, as if he expected never to see them again. "May the Force be with you...always."

Leia watched her mentor go. She wanted to run after him, demand that he not go, and hug and plead with him...But she knew she had to be strong. They were fighting different battles.

She turned to her brother, who was staring after the Jedi. He seemed to be deep in thought. After a few minutes of silence had passed, he turned his head to gaze at her. He smiled at her, touched her shoulder, and then he, too, left.

She started to speak and request that he stay, but Han put his arm on her. He gave her a knowing look. "You can't tell the kid what to do. You just gotta hope that he stays out of trouble."

Chewie growled in agreement, and Artoo hummed sadly.

"You're right, Captain Solo," Leia said softly. "I can't tell him what to do...But I _can_ go help him."

She took in a deep breath and then walked forward. She was a Jedi apprentice, and the Jedi knew no fear. She _had_ to go forward.


	22. Genesis of the Suns

Obi-Wan knew that time was in short supply, so he brought down the tractor beam as swiftly as he could. Then he touched the Force, trying to find his former pupil. The other's dark Force sense met his and beckoned him forward. Obi-Wan knew that the man called Darth Vader had been waiting for him.

The corridors he walked down were strangely empty, and he suspected that Vader had requested that they be vacated. A Dark Lord of the Sith needed no audience.

Obi-Wan had to take in several calming breaths as he moved. Years had passed, and tales of atrocities had reached his ears, but he still found it difficult to reconcile the image of Vader with his image of Anakin. Sometimes, he would catch himself smiling as he remembered an amusing incident involving him and Anakin, but then he would frown and remember when he had stood over his former pupil's body on Mustafar and seen the look of anger and betrayal in the young man's eyes...

As he banished the image of his reckless pupil for the image of a hardened Sith Lord, Obi-Wan knew he was as ready as he would ever be for this last meeting. Biting his lip in sorrow, he stepped forward into the large room where Destiny awaited him.

The Emperor sat at his throne, Darth Vader waiting silently at his right hand side. The dark apprentice with his despotic master.

The Jedi felt a chill pass through him. He had not sensed Palpatine, had not suspected he would be present. Then again, the Sith Lord was a master of concealment. He had hidden from the Jedi for years. It was not surprising that Darth Sidious would want to revel at the defeat of one of the last of the Jedi.

"I have been expecting you, Kenobi," the Emperor said with a twisted smile. His face, like his pale and shriveled hands, offered warmth to no one, pretend though he might. "And you are not the only one I have been waiting for..."

"Your battle is with me, Darth Sidious," Obi-Wan stated. His life, his hopes—they were all wrapped up in two young people. He would protect them till they were ready to face this tyrant—that was his purpose. The Jedi were all but gone, and he had nothing else.

"I am surprised you survived the Jedi Purge, Kenobi," Palpatine remarked. "Were it not for Lord Vader's weakness of compassion, I am quite certain he would have killed you on Mustafar...But your presence has escaped my apprentice's notice...Where _have_ you been hiding, _Jedi_?"

Obi-Wan said nothing, but Palpatine was skilled at reading souls. The Sith Lord gave a knowing smile that was just visible beneath the darkness of his hood. "Alderaan, I see. I should have killed Organa long ago—but he was skilled at convincing other senators of his support for me...Of course, now that I have disbanded the Senate, he should pose no further problem for me...In fact, I believe Alderaan will be my machine's first target...After you are dead, of course." The ruler gestured toward his dark servant, who brought his saber up and ignited it. "My _apprentice_ has been wanting to do this for a long time."

****

Vader watched his saber illuminate his former master's face in a hazy red glow. The Jedi—strangely aged—seemed to know his end was near, though he still retained that thrice-cursed Jedi calm.

The Sith Lord's mood darkened. Obi-Wan had never loved him like a brother—he had suppressed him like an opponent. And now, it was finally time for Vader to strike down this last remainder of his old life. The Jedi known as Obi-Wan Kenobi would soon be no more.

His saber clashed against his former master's, and the two laserswords buzzed angrily together like disturbed Corellian raptor-wasps.

Their weapons locked together, and Obi-Wan said quietly, "If you strike me down, you will be increasing my power tenfold, Vader."

Darth Vader slashed at the Jedi twice before responding. "Your power has decreased tenfold since the last time we met, _Jedi_."

After a few downward swings, Vader sensed a strange presence. Intrigued, he pressed Obi-Wan backwards and then retreated several steps. Turning, he saw the boy watching them.

Pleased, Vader made a simple comment: "So, Sun, you have returned."

****

Vader's remark filled the air with a strange heaviness.

Feeling as if he had been backhanded by a rancor, Obi-Wan gasped, "What?"

Did Vader _know_? How had he found out that Luke was his son?

His heart racing along with his thoughts, Obi-Wan turned his head to look at Palpatine, whose evil smile was all he saw before he was knocked into unconsciousness.

****

The youth ran to the fallen Jedi, whom Palpatine had thrown against the wall with the Force. Fortunately, the Jedi seemed to still be breathing. Grabbing the Jedi's saber with his left hand, the former Tusken stood up, his face impassive.

The dark man's black-gloved hand gripped his lightsaber tightly, and he spoke once again to the one he had taken from Tatooine. "I am surprised this traitor was able to find you, Sun."

The boy stared at the Sith Lord for a few seconds before finally moistening his lips and reaching out to the Force. Slowly and hesitantly, drawing on the muscle memories of those around him and the many observations he had made during his time with humans, he opened his mouth. "I im...I am...Oo..." He closed his eyes tightly, calling more of the Force to him. Finally, he managed to rasp out: "I am Luke Skywalker."

Palpatine and Vader shared a quick glance, but Luke was unsure of the look's significance.

Vader's master, his face hidden in the shadows of his hood, gave a low chuckle. "Well, young Skywalker, why don't you prove yourself worthy of your name by killing the Jedi Kenobi? Perhaps you can succeed where your father failed."

"No," Luke said slowly but defiantly.

"You were raised by Tuskens, were you not?" Palpatine queried, his evil eyes peering at the youth. "On Tatooine, death is a way of life. It is not different anywhere else in the galaxy."

"No," the youth repeated himself loudly, shaking his head. Palpatine's Force sense was trying to enter Luke's mind, but Luke kept trying to fight its influence.

"If you refuse to obey your emperor, then you must die," the Emperor said matter-of-factly.

Vader ignited his saber, swinging it at the youth after a brief second of hesitation, but Luke met the red saber with Obi-Wan's blue blade. For a while now, Luke had been building up arm strength in his left arm. While he was certainly no match for Vader's brute strength, with both the Force and speed on his side, he might be able to hold his own.

The duel began, saber flashing against saber, angry scarlet against cool sapphire. Luke could see the red and blue hues reflecting from Vader's helmet, colors fighting on a dark and cold background. He knew it was a fight between good and evil, between life and death.

Was there any chance that battle was taking place in Vader's mind?

****

When Leia had felt Obi-Wan's consciousness dim, she had been on the verge of panicking. She had then latched onto her brother's Force sense—she still couldn't believe that she had a _brother_!—and followed it to what she guessed was the Emperor's throne room. After she entered the room, she froze. Vader and Luke were fighting, Palpatine was watching, and Obi-Wan—where was Obi-Wan?

She finally found him lying on the floor near a wall, and she ran to him. She could feel the Emperor's eyes on her as she checked the Jedi's pulse.

Palpatine finally spoke to her, as she had somehow known he would. "Your pathetic master is not dead yet. Soon, however, he _will_ be."

Leia looked up and glared at him, her hand twitching beside her lightsaber.

The Emperor's eyes became slits, and a satisfied smile spread across his face. "Good," he said softly. "Let your hatred flow through you...Embrace your anger..."

Leia had to exercise every ounce of her control in the effort not to try to spear the despot with her saber. She tried instead to focus her energies on Obi-Wan. Finally, with the Force's aid, she finally succeeded in awakening the Jedi.

"Leia?" Obi-Wan whispered. He blinked, and Leia knew he was trying to clear his head. The Jedi glanced around quickly in an effort to get his bearings, and his eyes finally rested on the dueling Vader and Luke. "I knew it would come to this, Leia," he said sorrowfully, "but I had hoped it wouldn't have to."

Leia watched the duel, feeling Obi-Wan's sadness affect her, though she wasn't quite sure why. The black-armored Sith Lord was on the offensive, stabbing and slashing viciously, while the youth was dancing in and out defensively, meeting Vader's lighter blows with Obi-Wan's saber and avoiding most of the rest. Leia had never known that a one-armed human boy could be such a great swordsman.

Vader paused at one point, and Luke warily held his saber in place, waiting for the Sith Lord's next move.

"I sense your concern, Obi-Wan," the Sith Lord remarked as he began circling around his younger opponent. "It is somehow connected to these two..."

Leia glanced at Obi-Wan, who closed his eyes tightly. She could sense he was trying to erect stronger Force shields, but she also knew that his attempt was made too late.

"Ah, so the boy and girl are _siblings_...They know they are the children of Skywalker..." Vader sounded almost amused. "You haven't told them the truth, have you, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, and he gave Leia a sorrowful and apologetic look. "I have not lied to them," he said softly, his voice sounding to Leia as if it lacked conviction. "Their father was Anakin Skywalker. The man I knew who went by that name is dead."

"Their father is not dead," Vader growled. "Their father is standing in front of the pathetic Jedi who left him to die...Did you tell them how you maimed me, Obi-Wan?" His voice was cold and accusatory, and his anger was so great it was almost tangible. "How you let flames engulf my body? How if it weren't for the help of my present master, I would be dead?" The silence of his pause was deafening. "Did you tell them that your plan has always been for the children to kill the father?"

Leia stared at Obi-Wan, her heart close to breaking when he wouldn't meet her gaze. "Is it true, Obi-Wan?" she whispered, a tear sparkling in her eye.

She hadn't asked Bail who her real parents were when he had told her she was adopted. She had dismissed it as concern for his feelings, but truly that hadn't been the only reason. She had been fearful—she hadn't really wanted to know. And when she had learned of her relationship to Luke, she had accepted it easily simply because of the strange kinship she felt. But she could no longer avoid asking questions about her family—about her parentage. Now, she needed to know, though the knowledge might rip her entire galaxy asunder. She swallowed and forced some very painful words to come out of her mouth: "Is Darth Vader our father?"

She could see the fatigue, the regret, the pain in her mentor's eyes as he whispered, "He is."


	23. Light and the Suns

Leia stood up, anger in her face and tears in her eyes. Obi-Wan knew as well as she did that the truth was a part of her now—there was no turning back for any of them.

"If it is the destiny of the son and the daughter to kill the father," Leia gritted, her chin trembling, "then who am I to forsake my destiny?" She ignited her blue lightsaber and lunged at the silent Vader, who blocked her blow.

"Leia, no!" Obi-Wan pleaded. "Let go of your anger—don't let the Dark Side consume you!"

"I guess you should have thought of that when you and Father decided to hide my ancestry from me!" Leia bit out. Her rage was growing by the moment, swirling into a vicious tornado that sought nothing but destruction.

Obi-Wan tore his gaze from Leia. He could no longer look at her. He couldn't bear to see her rage, to watch her fail to uphold the teachings he had given her...Her failure was his failure. How had he failed again?

He looked instead to Luke, the one that made him feel a glimmer—however slight—of hope. The boy seemed almost taken aback by his sister's entrance into the fight, but Obi-Wan suspected he was relieved to have help. Wielding a lightsaber against the half-machine Vader was liable to make the boy's hand tire quickly.

And yet, Luke seemed strangely withdrawn from the fighting for a reason that didn't seem to be fatigue...Obi-Wan suspected he didn't want to press his advantage, but he wasn't sure whether he should be valuing or cursing the boy's hesitation.

It was a situation Obi-Wan wished he had never been required to face. There was a decision to be made—adhere to the Jedi way or save the galaxy? Was there a way to do both? Or were they, in this instance, mutually exclusive?

He and Yoda needed the children to destroy the father—it was true...Yet the Jedi were to defend, to be at peace—they were not to aim for destruction...Could one kill another being while maintaining serenity?

Obi-Wan tried reaching out to the Light Side, but he was not at peace, and the Force held no answers for him.

****

Palpatine watched as Vader dueled with his two children. There was much anger in the girl, but the boy...the boy was strangely serene.

"Good blow, girl," he said appreciatively as Leia Organa forced Palpatine's dark knight back a few steps. "Use your anger to destroy your father."

At his words, however, the girl switched from offensive to defensive. He could feel her forcing herself to calm down. Her anger was losing force.

The Emperor narrowed his eyes. Insolent girl. She had been showing such promise, too...

"You know that I disbanded the Senate, child," Palpatine said pointedly, giving a twisted smile as he saw a muscle in the girl's cheek twitch. "With one stroke, I completely dissolved democracy. With the Senate gone and my Grand Moffs in place, my Empire is invincible...I am afraid, child, that the Republic is dead...And soon, Alderaan will be no more...With Bail Organa dead, the Rebellion will collapse from within." The Sith Lord saw the young woman's eyes widen. "Yes, I am quite certain that Mothma and Bel Iblis will end up destroying each other; their methods differ too greatly for them to coexist peacefully without Organa."

"Leia," the Jedi Kenobi called out. "Fight against your anger. Find your peace—you are a Jedi apprentice, Leia!"

But the tyrannical ruler could see that Leia had been angered by his words: she was increasing the intensity of her attack.

****

Darth Vader was still dueling, parrying the strong strikes of Leia and the hesitant slashes of Luke, though his mind was not on the battle before him.

Children. Padmé had given birth to two children—and Obi-Wan had hidden them from him and lied to them about his existence.

His fury burned brighter, and he subconsciously increased the strength behind his lightsaber blows. Obi-Wan had turned his Padmé against him, left him to die on Mustafar, and stolen away his two children. The family he could have had—it had been ripped away from him by the Jedi. Instead of the father raising the children alongside his wife, he was trying to kill them and forget about the death of their mother.

He wiped Padmé from his mind, concentrating solely on his children...No, he did not truly want to kill them—that was not what he was trying to do. He was trying to turn them. Leia was showing promise in that area, but he suspected she would rather kill both him and Palpatine than serve under either of them. And Luke...

How had his son been so close to him for so long without either one of them realizing their relationship? He had felt a strange kinship with the boy, certainly, but he had thought it was the Force alone that tied them together.

If only he had known of the boy's true potential, he would have tried to be more patient with him. Then Luke would have never run away, and this battle would have never taken place. His son would have one day ruled at his side.

Vader turned his attention back to the battle with his children. The Dark Side was swirling throughout the room, but it was swirling out of control. He needed to focus Leia's anger, but how could he? How was he going to permanently turn his children to _both_ the Dark Side and _his_ side?—for he must—it was all he could do. He didn't know if he would be able to kill them. There was so much potential there, he told himself. Would he be able to kill them, knowing that?

****

Luke was participating in the saber duel, but he was doing so on auto-pilot. He could not concentrate on the fight, and truly he did not want to.

He had found his true father and discovered he had a sister. His past had finally been unraveled—but to what purpose?

Why had he met with the dark man again? Why did he feel this strange connection to him that made him ponder what-ifs and should-have-beens?

What made the dark man any different from Xyd'rr'u? Both were so willing to kill, so willing to encourage _him_ to kill...

Certainly, he was related to one and not even of the same species as the other. But species—that sort of thing didn't matter.

Why did he feel as if his connection to Vader _did_ matter?

Why did he long to stay with Vader when he had been so desperate to get away from Xyd'rr'u? Could it be that he had felt a glimmer of something in Vader that had not been present in his adopted father?

If he had fled and then fought Xyd'rr'u, the Tusken Raider would not have hesitated to kill him. Tuskens would tolerate insolence in other members of their species only up to a point.

But Vader—why was Vader not killing him? Why had Vader not killed him before when he had disobeyed him? Why had the dark man fought to be patient with him when Luke knew he would do so for no one else?

Could it be—was it possible—that Vader still retained a spark of the light that Luke had been yearning for all his life?

****

Leia fought for the Rebellion, for her adopted father, for Winter, for her cousin, for the murdered artist, for the dead, for the galaxy, and for herself. She needed to see Palpatine dead, but before she could get to him she had to kill her father.

It had been strange enough to discover that she was adopted and had a brother...But discovering that her father was one of the most evil men in the galaxy was almost more than she could handle. It was still surreal—she felt as if someone had concocted up a nightmare and planted it into her mind. Her gut, however, told her this was no nightmare.

While she fought, she wondered why Luke wasn't putting all his effort into the duel. Vader had cut his hand off—surely he could not feel kindly toward the monster!

Obi-Wan's words, once so precious to her, were now to her like fog—pretty enough to be surrounded by, but possessing no substance. This was what the Jedi wanted, wasn't it, for the Sith to die? It was what _Leia_ wanted. The Republic would rise from the ashes of the Sith; she could ensure that.

Distantly, she heard a shout. Backing off from Vader, she spared a brief glance toward the noise.

****

Saber risen protectively, Luke turned from the battle with his father. He watched as Han and Chewbacca came rushing noisily into the room, their blasters held at the ready. He watched as they shot at the amused Palpatine, their bolts being absorbed easily into his hands. He watched as they were thrown back into the wall with the Force, their consciousness being taken over by painless darkness.

What sadness he might have felt was overtaken by his relief that the hit hadn't killed the pair. Soon, however, he found himself facing Vader alone, for Leia cried out and ran to the pair, kneeling beside Han.

His left arm had not been given enough respite to recover for a one-on-one duel with Vader, but fortunately he noticed Obi-Wan calling Leia's lightsaber to his hand. Soon, the Jedi had joined him, and they kept Vader's strength at bay together.

Luke felt as if the battle were pointless, and, tentatively, his Force senses stretched out, he began to speak. "Father."

The Sith Lord began to speak. "Give in to the Dark Side, Son...You can be great if you release your anger..."

"You...would be...greater if you would...cleanse...yourself of your anger," Luke managed.

"You have let the traitor Kenobi brainwash you," growled the dark man. "The Jedi are inconsistent—in the name of morals, they ask you not to feel. They want you to kill, but they don't want you to experience an emotion while you do it..."

"Yet...you kill without...thinking."

"At least I feel."

"The Jedi feel, too, Vader," Obi-Wan insisted, blocking the Sith Lord's slash. "Do you think I felt no sense of loss on Mustafar? You were like my brother."

"And you were like my father...Yet you left me to _die_."

"The past is gone," Luke inserted as he blocked the blow Vader aimed at him. "Good is...in you still. It burns on."

"No, Luke," Leia called out, her face twisted in anger and sorrow. "That man is not our father—our father was Anakin Skywalker, and he is long dead."

But Luke shook his head. He flung his saber aside, and it fell to the floor with a loud clatter. "We should not...fight...I will not fight...Good is...in you still, Father. It burns on."

At that, Vader began to pursue Luke, easily blocking the attacks Obi-Wan sent at him. "If you do not fight," snarled the Sith Lord, "then you shall _die_."

"It...does not matter," the former Ghorfa responded, trying to duck into the shadows. But light almost seemed to follow him, and Vader could still see him.

"If you do not fight, there are others who will die, Son," the Dark Lord warned him. "Your two friends will die, this Jedi fool will die, and your sister will die..." There was a flicker in Luke's Force sense, and the dark man continued. "I will slaughter them, just like your Tusken tribe was slaughtered...But this time, you will be here to hear them scream."

"_No_!" Luke cried out, calling Obi-Wan's saber to him and striking at the Sith Lord with such ferocity that he forced him backwards.

Obi-Wan fell back a few steps, stunned at the amount of anger he felt from Luke through the Force. "Do not give in to your anger, Luke," he pleaded, but his words fell on deaf ears.

****

Vader could only watch as his son made one final clever blow, slicing off Vader's right hand and sending Vader's saber flying. He had overexerted himself on the duel, and he fell to his knees, his respirator making a wheezing sound.

Luke, his son, his only son, stared at him as if searching his soul, but Vader was unable to read his soul in return. Vader's own thoughts were chaotic, but one thought came out clearly: how had it come to this?

His life, his entire life, seemed to boil down to death and destruction...Because of him, his wife was dead and the Jedi were all but extinct...It had all been his fault, truly—he had always known that. He had simply tried to lie to himself, to convince himself that the blame was the Jedi's and not his, that Obi-Wan had failed him as a friend and teacher. And yet, he was the one that had failed Obi-Wan—it had not been the other way around. He had crafted his own misery.

And now, he was about to be killed by his son. He had forced it to happen. They were separated from each other by his decisions...He had made his children hate him.

The next words Palpatine uttered—though not unexpected—sent a chill down his spine: "Now, boy, kill him."

Vader remained kneeling, waiting for the blade to fall. Here was his destiny—death at the hands of his son. Perhaps it was his son that was truly meant to be the Chosen One...Vader would never know. And perhaps it didn't even matter.

Distantly, Vader heard Obi-Wan speaking. "Palpatine, you truly have been twisted by the Dark Side..."

Vader watched as Luke extinguished his lightsaber and threw it to the ground with finality. Because of his confusion, it took a few seconds for Vader to register the boy's next words: "You have failed...I will not fight...I will not kill...I had thought that...that Vader was the dark man...But the dark man—he was inside me...I know that now."

"You are a young fool," the Emperor sneered, seething with annoyance. "Your anger gave you such power that you were able to bring your father to his knees...You speak of darkness, boy, but if darkness lurks inside us all, why should we fight it? Instead of fighting it, all should embrace it."

"No," the youth insisted firmly, his chin set stubbornly. Though he didn't quite know why, Vader felt a sense of pride.

Vader should have expected what happened next, but he was enveloped in so many conflicting emotions that he was unable to think clearly. When Palpatine began to hit Luke, then Obi-Wan, and then Leia with Force lightning, Vader could only watch, suddenly numb.

The tyrant struck them with enough lightning to cause them all to writhe in agony, but then, with a cold look toward Vader, he began to concentrate the electricity on Luke, who cried out and writhed.

Everyone living he cared about was dying. The thought came to Vader with startling clarity. His children and his mentor—they were all to be killed by his master. The Dark Side and his master—they were one and the same. They were killing those he did not want dead.

He heard Leia whisper Obi-Wan's name as she crawled toward the Jedi, but it was his son's desperate words that cut straight to his heart: "Father...Please help us."

Somehow, Vader found the strength within himself to stand; he didn't even need to use the Force. He grabbed his saber and staggered over to his master, swinging the red blade at the tyrant's throat. But the tyrant one-handedly blocked the saber with one of his own and then shot Force lightning out at his assailant.

It was going to be over soon. Vader couldn't match Palpatine's dueling skills with only one hand, and he was unable to block the Force lightning.

Palpatine glared at his former apprentice with unparalleled hatred. All of his anger and attention was focused solely on Vader, on the act of death he was about to perform, and as he whispered furiously, "Traitor," two loud noises rang out in the room.

Vader stared as his master fell backwards, a smoking hole in his chest.

"I _knew_ there was a reason I preferred blasters to those ancient hokey weapons," the strange man on the floor said with a smirk.

All the occupants of the room then stared quietly at the dead despot.


	24. Sunset, Sunrise

There was a moment of silence before Vader collapsed to his knees and then to the floor, his left hand all that was keeping him from lying face-down. Obi-Wan and Luke rushed over and knelt beside him. Leia hesitantly stood a few feet away.

"Father," Luke said quietly, touching the Sith Lord's shoulder.

"My mask—take off my mask," Vader requested, touching his son's shoulder in return.

A protest died unsaid on Luke's lips. For the Sith Lord and the Tusken, perhaps, both long sheltered from the light, the removal of facial coverings was unthinkable. But for one trying to escape those bonds of darkness, the act was a step toward the light.

Slowly, almost reverently, Luke removed the mask, revealing a pale face set in a hairless, scarred head.

Tears shone in the Sith Lord's eyes. Quietly, he said, "You were right about me, Luke—know that, Leia—he was right...Thank you...Thank you for saving me..."

"You are not going to die," Luke said surely. He reached out to the Force and placed his hand on the dying man. "I will...I will save you."

His father smiled sadly.

****

Obi-Wan stared at the eyes of his former apprentice. They were no longer simply the eyes of Vader which he had encountered on Mustafar—they were shining orbs in which Anakin Skywalker was fighting against the Darkness.

Even if there were a chance that Anakin would turn back to the Dark Side, Obi-Wan could not forsake him again.

He placed his hands on Anakin's chest, smiling as the startled man flinched. "You have been redeemed by love, my friend...You saved me many times, Anakin...I will join your son to save your life."

****

Leia stared at her father. He had helped kill his master, had been willing to risk his own life for the survival of his children...But that one act was not enough for him to atone for all the ill he had done.

And yet...

Shouldn't he be allowed the chance to right some of the wrongs he had wrought? His death would accomplish nothing, but if he lived...

She moved forward a few steps, looking down at her father. Finally, she too knelt and placed a hand upon him. "I will help save you as well."

Her father's eyes met her own. She could see the sorrow in them, the shame, the fear...Through her own face, she communicated to him: _I will help you, but you are not forgiven._ She just couldn't forgive him yet.

He gave a slight nod—he understood what she was conveying. Though pain flashed through his eyes, Leia felt no remorse. She had spoken the truth, and truth was part of what she had been fighting for.

****

The kneeling Force users turned after hearing a voice from behind them. "Are you three crazy?" Han exclaimed as he walked toward them. "You're just going to heal Darth Vader?"

"He is Darth Vader no longer," said Obi-Wan calmly.

"Who...are you?" wheezed Anakin.

The smuggler puffed his chest out a little. "I'm Leia's boyfriend."

"What?" exclaimed Leia, Anakin, and Obi-Wan simultaneously. Luke merely smiled.

"Well," the smuggler amended, "I will be...There are a few details to work out first..."

Leia shook her head in disbelief, glaring at the man. "Why, you stuck-up...half-witted...scruffy-looking...nerf herder!"

"Who's scruffy-looking?" Han replied with a hurt look.

Leia gazed around her surroundings in frustration. "You know, if I weren't related to half of the men in this room, I'd probably be kissing one of them just to prove you don't know everything about women yet."

Obi-Wan was failing to hide his smile as he said gently, "I am afraid your father needs attention right now more than your boyfriend, Leia."

"He is _not_—" Leia cut off, seeing the look on Obi-Wan's face. "All right. I'm sorry." She turned her attention back to her father.

The three Force users, in unison, poured Light Side energy into the redeemed man. While doing so, Obi-Wan could have sworn he saw Anakin Skywalker bathed in a warm white glow, but that might very well have been his imagination. After a few minutes, the man was no longer wheezing, and his breathing seemed to be strong enough that Obi-Wan no longer worried about having to put the mask back on him.

The man lying on the floor in front of him was very pale, but Obi-Wan knew without a doubt that it was Anakin Skywalker. Older, perhaps; darker, perhaps; but Anakin Skywalker nonetheless.

"I do not understand..." Anakin frowned. "I do not need my mask..."

"The Dark Side is meant for destruction, Anakin," Obi-Wan chided gently as he and Anakin's children rose to their feet, "but the Light Side is meant for life."

Anakin nodded slowly, hesitantly. Obi-Wan could see that he was taking the lesson to heart.

There was a sudden influx of Dark Side energy, and when Obi-Wan turned, he saw an angry redhead pointing a ruby lightsaber at Luke's throat.

****

Anakin was somewhat surprised that he hadn't sensed Mara Jade, but then again, Palpatine had taught her how to cloak her presence in the Force. To aid in the destruction of Jedi, she would have to be able to hide herself.

Luke stood still, not even looking down at the blade hovering inches beneath his chin. Instead, he stared at Mara Jade.

"I saw everything," she whispered. "I was watching on a viewscreen—I couldn't hear it, but I saw you—I saw you all killing my master...You are all traitors to the Empire."

"Jade," Anakin said quietly as he sat up, "your master was trying to kill us..." His heart pounded out of fear for his son, but he knew that if she had truly wanted to kill Luke, then the boy would be dead already. The Emperor's Hand rarely missed her target.

"You have betrayed him," Jade said, glaring at him.

"He didn't care for you or me," Anakin replied gently. "He cared only for himself."

His son began to speak. "Mara..."

She turned and looked at him sharply. "You can talk?"

"There is more...to life than death...There is...so much...so much he never offered you...But you—you can still have it, Mara."

The girl hesitated. Anakin could tell that she wanted to believe Luke—she wanted to trust him...But she had been taught all her life to trust only Palpatine, and now...Now she was beginning to doubt the one person she had been allowed to trust.

Anakin opened his mouth to speak, but then he heard the sound of a blaster going off, and Mara Jade fell to the floor. He turned his head and saw Leia looking upon the redhead's body with a grim look. She had apparently taken Han's blaster and shot Mara with a stun blast.

"She'll be okay," Leia said, as if to ward off the accusatory gazes being sent her way. "I've met her before, though, and I knew she would be too much of a problem for us to handle right now."

Anakin smiled. It seemed his daughter wasn't one to waste too much time. His _daughter_...How strangely right that sounded...

He cleared his throat, gaining everyone's attention. "We should evacuate the Death Star before we destroy it...Grand Moff Tarkin might try to hinder our efforts, but I believe we can handle him." He smiled, suddenly feeling a spark of the reckless youth he had once been flare up.

"We can send her out in an escape pod, Luke," Leia said to her brother, who was looking sadly upon the redhead's body. "Maybe one day the two of you will meet again under better circumstances..."

Luke hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah..."

****

When Anakin made an announcement over the intercom, he made it known that he, Darth Vader, had defected to the Rebellion and that all who also wished to defect could do so without fearing punishment. For those who remained loyal Imperials, they were to evacuate the Death Star. High-ranking loyal Imperials like Grand Moff Tarkin were arrested, as Anakin knew they would only provide trouble.

Anakin ushered the handcuffed prisoners into the _Millennium Falcon_ after muttering to his companions, "How you survived the journey here on that mechanical beast is beyond my understanding." When the last of the prisoners were settled in, he spotted an astromech unit and a protocol droid exiting one of the ship's storage rooms. Furrowing his brow, he ventured, "Threepio? Artoo?"

Threepio tilted his head. "Excuse me, sir, but do I know you?"

Anakin felt somewhat taken aback by the droid's response, though he knew memory wipes were customary for droids. He tried to hide his disappointment as he told them: "I'm Anakin Skywalker..."

Artoo whistled in excitement.

"The Maker? What are you talking about, Artoo?" Threepio demanded.

The little droid beeped, but Anakin cut him off. "I created you, Threepio...And I'm guessing you still remember me, Artoo?"

When the astromech beeped an affirmative and tootled something else, Anakin smiled. "I missed you, too, Artoo...But I have returned, and we can hear more about each other's exploits later."

The droid beeped happily in response.

****

After the Death Star was completely evacuated and drained of important supplies by ships which were defecting to the Rebellion, Anakin and Luke piloted TIE/Advanced fighters out of the Death Star, sending some Force-aimed proton torpedoes through the thermal exhaust port which Anakin knew was the station's one weakness. Then Anakin, whooping out of excitement (stars, how wonderful it felt to finally do _that_ again!), veered his fighter out of the trench and moved away from the Death Star, his son following him.

The Rebellion hadn't needed the Death Star plans after all.

****

Staring out the _Falcon_'s viewport at the exploding Death Star, Leia couldn't help but smile. With the superstation's demise, the Empire was beginning to die.

Quietly, she spoke to the man beside her. "I appreciate all the help you have given us, Han."

The smuggler gave her a lop-sided grin that only Chewie and Obi-Wan caught. "You do realize you owe me, right, Your Worship?"

The princess glared, her solemnity shattered. "You will be paid handsomely. Do not worry."

"That's not exactly what I was talking about," Han grinned, standing up and leaning over her. "What I meant was—" he cut off as he proceeded to kiss her.

She leaned into the kiss before backing away and slapping him. "You _nerf_!"

But the smuggler grinned knowingly at her. "One day, you'll be begging me for more of that."

"In your dreams," Leia snorted.

"Yeah," Han smirked, "there too."

****

"Succeed, they did," Yoda said with a small smile at the spirit standing next to him.

Qui-Gon Jinn nodded. "Did you really expect anything less?"

The little green alien looked sad. "After the Jedi Purge, expect less of much have I."

"Well, maybe this will teach you to be a little more optimistic, hmm?" Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow.

"Heh," chuckled Yoda. "Perhaps, Qui-Gon. Perhaps."

****

Before the Yavin IV celebration ceremony, Luke met Biggs Darklighter and Wedge Antilles for a second time. He hadn't known their names, but he had remembered their faces. The latter had remembered him, and the former had sensed something strangely familiar about him. He planned to talk more with them both later—he sensed they would all be great friends one day—but he needed to go to the ceremony. He clenched his new prosthetic right hand—it felt strange but right that he would be part machine like his father.

****

The ceremony filled Leia with excitement. More Rebels than she could count had gathered on the Rebels' base at Yavin IV, including her foster father, Mon Mothma, Garm Bel Iblis, and Winter. Winter stood off to the left side near Dodonna and other Rebel officers, the gleaming Threepio and Artoo were near other officers on the right, and the three Rebel Alliance heads formed a triangle in the middle. The Three were proud—they felt their lives had been building up to this very moment. Bail Organa had helped make the galaxy safer for his homeplanet and two adopted daughters, Mon Mothma's hard work had finally reached fruition, and Garm Bel Iblis had attained justice for the deaths of his wife and children. Every face in the room radiated with joy.

A large grin on her face, Leia walked down the long aisle with her brother, her biological father, Obi-Wan, Han, and Chewie. On this day, they would be honored as heroes.

Leia knew that in the following days the Empire would fall and a New Republic would rise. The blow the Rebellion had struck above Alderaan was one the Empire could never recover from, though the battle was not quite over. But at the moment, that didn't really matter. All that mattered was that she _knew_ the battle _would_ be over. The Empire was crippled, and it would not recover.

Long live the Republic.

****

A few days after the Rebel celebrations had finally begun to die down, Luke went to visit Tatooine for what he intended to be the last time. He walked among familiar places, touched familiar things. While walking through the Jundland Wastes, it occurred to him that he didn't really know who he was—Chinnatah? Sun? Kid?...Luke? Maybe he was them all...And maybe he was more.

He did know that as Chinnatah, the Tatooinian suns and sands would always be in his blood; that as Sun, part of him would always be slightly fearful; that as Kid, he would always be discovering new things; and that as Luke, the Force would always be a part of his life...

Perhaps it didn't matter _what_ he was—it just mattered that he _was_. At that thought, so simple but so satisfactory, he gazed upward at the Tatooinian sunset. The bright colors above him seemed to indicate that the sky's mind was in turmoil, but he felt at peace. He was going to end his old life and begin a new one, one with friends and family that accepted him as he was and as he was not. Removing his gaze from the sky, he moved forward.

The twin suns continued burning just as brightly. The next day, they would rise again.


	25. Epilogue

The ship he was captain over was taken command of by the Imperial leader swiftly, but he felt no anger—instead, he felt an immense joy quite unlike the sheer desperation he had been feeling the past few days.

He had heard whispers of this great commander, but never had he imagined that the great being would return and choose _his ship_ as flagship.

He believed the Empire to be in dire straits, but now hope gleamed on the horizon. Now, the Empire could rise up brighter than ever.

****

A figure cloaked in black sat motionlessly in an ebony chair, his pale fingers resting on the chair's arms. Slowly, a sinister smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. The Empire was far from dead. He would ensure that.

****

**Author's Note:** **This is just a tiny epilogue to draw attention to this story's sequel, "Galactic Sunrise." As Leia says in ANH, "It's not over yet."**


End file.
